Screenplay: Alien Homeworld
by Jack Bullions
Summary: Defunct. Content LSV. Based loosely on the Steve Perry novel series...survivors of the lost colony Rim find themselves in a political and corporate conspiracy twelve years after the massacre which could lead to an alien invasion on Earth. Two-part mini.
1. Part One: Pages 1-10


    ALIEN HOMEWORLD
    by
    Jack Bullions
    INT. OPENING MONTAGE
    A veil of arctic black.
    FADE IN:
    DEEP SPACE - THE DISTANT FUTURE
    A giant blue planet, surrounded by billions of stars like
    hard pinpricks against the deadblack curtain, glittering like
    diamonds caught in a laser beam.
    SUPER: COLONY LV-230 OUTER RIM
    A massive TRANSPORT SHIP moves into frame. We see a DROP-
    SHIP, shooting out of the transport, plummeting into the
    atmosphere. We FOLLOW, in full pursuit. Winds SCREAMING
    past us as we --
    SMASH CUT TO:
    INT. HALLWAY - OUTER RIM
    Silence. TRACKING along the cold, empty corridors, the
    metallic bowels of the settlement. Flashing emergency lights
    illuminating the walls in red. The background klaxon
    becoming audible, louder, and LOUDER. We stop at the end of
    the hallway, staring at the foot of a steel stairwell when
    suddenly --
    BOOM! Military boots jump INTO FRAME.
    CUT UP TO:
    A MARINE'S FACE grime with sweat. We see frantic eyes, in
    complete terror. He looks left and right, scanning, looking
    down at his --
    MOTION TRACKER
    The device is going crazy at him. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. On
    the screen dozens of blips, converging. Range counting down
    fast.
    MARINE
    Oh shit...
    The marine swings his tracker and his pulse rifle to his
    right, looks down on his screen. We SEE the screen again, it
    spins with him into more signals, also rapidly converging.
    MARINE
    Oh shit...
    He swings to his left, daring to look down again.
    MARINE
    Oh shit... Oh Jesus...
    We PAN BACK SLOWLY to see the marine now. Private JASON
    COLBERT, too young 20s, solid built right out of boot camp.
    GUNFIRE ERUPTS in the b.g. as more MARINES stream down the
    stairwell, names like JONES, QUINN, MASSEY. One of them is
    Corporal DAVEY WILKS, late twenties, and more seasoned. We
    see him cradling a little girl in one arm, BILLIE, and his
    carbine in the other.
    WILKS
    Talk to me, Colbert!
    COLBERT
    We've got a shitload of incoming from all
    sides. They've trapped us. The fucking
    animals herded us and trapped us!
    QUINN
    Wilks! What the fuck are these things!
    JONES
    Where's Top?! Where's the rest of the
    platoon?
    MASSEY
    We don't have a platoon left, man!
    WILKS
    Maintain your field of fire, marines!
    The girl is crying her eyes out, clutching Wilks in a tight
    grip.
    WILKS
    (soothing)
    Easy, honey. We're gonna be fine. We're
    going back to the ship, everything is
    gonna be okay.
    Her powerful screams mingling with the gunfire, klaxon, and
    suddenly, someone else SCREAMS over their headsets.
    COLBERT
    Top?!
    WILKS
    Sarge? Sarge, do you copy?
    QUINN
    (off screen, freaked)
    Oh shit, Top!
    Nothing is fine. Massey unloads a searing BLAST of fire from
    his flamethrower, engulfing an entire hallway. We hear
    horrible SCREECHES from something beyond.
    WHIP PAN TO:
    On the adjoining hallway, CLAWS appear between one of the
    partially closed doors. It wrenches it open ferociously. An
    ALIEN steps through, screaming at the marines.
    Colbert spins, points - FLASH! - CRACK! - blasting it away.
    More of the things are coming. More gunfire.
    ON WILKS
    He's looking left and right, panicking. Something needs to
    be done -- fast.
    COLBERT
    What are we gonna do, Wilks!?
    QUINN
    Buddha, we're gonna die just like the
    others!
    WILKS
    Shut the fuck up, Quinn!
    (to headphone)
    Fox Platoon! We are moving to the next
    floor! Haul ass!
    He spins, heads down the stairs. Colbert following behind.
    INT. BOTTOM FLOOR
    Wilks appears down the stairway, scans the hallway. He SEES
    a closed pressure door at the other end. Colbert moves on
    ahead, keeping his eyes on the tracker.
    COMPUTER
    Attention. Emergency. All personnel
    must evacuate immediately. You now have
    seventeen minutes to reach minimum safe
    distance.
    WILKS
    Fuckin' A!
    Colbert reaches the door. He looks down at the tracker. No
    movement. He nods to Wilks as Quinn and the others catch up.
    QUINN
    They keep coming, man! Our AP rounds are
    doing shit!
    WILKS
    Keep your fire, Quinn!
    (to the platoon)
    Shoot for targets. Use triplets only!
    We don't have enough ammo to waste on
    full auto suppressive fire. Go!
    Wilks tries opening the door. The key panel won't respond.
    WILKS
    Fuck! Jasper, hold the kid!
    A large black marine moves in as Wilks hands Billie off, but
    the little girl resists.
    BILLIE
    No! Don't leave me!
    WILKS
    I gotta open the door. Jasper will take
    care of you.
    Billie finally relents. Jasper grabs hold of the girl, and
    she quickly clutches him like a baby monkey to its mother.
    Wilks snaps a PLASMA CUTTER off his belt and cuts into the
    lock. Molten droplets dripping from the lock like water.
    FLASHES of pulse rifle fire behind him. Inhuman SCREECHES
    filling his ears.
    He finishes. Slams the controls. The door slides open
    slowly to reveal something big and black waiting, clutching
    the pipes of the ceiling. It leaps at him in a blur, sleek
    black skin with teeth.
    Wilks spins his body, swinging his plasma cutter up
    reflexively. The fire line catches the creature by the neck,
    decapitating it. It SCREAMS, alerting Colbert. He spins,
    fires POINT-BLANK. The rest of the creature is hurled back
    through the door.
    WILKS
    Move out, people! Now!
    Marines scream en masse as the steel grate floors cave in,
    and CLAWED ARMS shoot out lightning fast, dragging them down.
    Jasper disappears into the crawlway. A bunch of carbines
    open FIRE in all directions.
    Colbert ducks in time to avoid rounds SPLATTERING against
    steel, inches from his face. He tries to drag Massey out
    from the floor with the things clinging to him.
    WILKS
    Seal the door, goddammit!
    COLBERT
    What the hell are you doing?
    WILKS
    We can't help them, Colbert!
    Massey shoots his rifle frantically beneath him, manages to
    climb up. Billie SCREAMS.
    BILLIE (O.S.)
    Help! Oh, please, help!
    Aliens are crawling out from the subfloor crawlway. Colbert
    BLASTS one back underneath.
    He SEES one of the things holding the little girl in its
    arms, hauling her away. Colbert snaps his carbine up, aiming
    for it. Wilks is slamming the controls.
    WILKS
    Colbert!
    COLBERT
    I see her!
    WILKS
    Colbert, we gotta move!
    He tries to adjust aim. No avail. The door SLIDES SHUT.
    Colbert's eyes is transfixed to the door, his carbine
    trained. Wilks drags him down the hall.
    WILKS
    We'll find a way, man!
    The door buckles from clanging impact. Another crash, the
    SQUEAL of tortured metal. Colbert, Wilks and Massey make
    tracks down the hall when suddenly the door is ripped open.
    One of the aliens charges through like a locomotive.
    The marines turn, SEE the thing leap at them. Its hideous
    spiky body covering our view like a giant ugly ink blot as we
    --
    SMASH CUT TO:
    INT. COLBERT'S BEDROOM - DAY
    TIGHT ON COLBERT, snapping up INTO FRAME, sweaty and panting.
    SUPER: NEW ANNAPOLIS NAVAL BASE, VIRGINIA PROVINCE - PRESENT
    DAY
    A stunning blonde wakes up next to him. Dog tags between her
    breasts. This is SAMMIE BROOKS.
    BROOKS
    Jason? Are you all right?
    He's still disoriented.
    BROOKS (CONT'D)
    You were dreaming again.
    Colbert comes back to reality, swings his legs out from under
    his covers and sits on the edge of the bed. Brooks stretches
    across, grabbing a watch, checks the time.
    BROOKS
    This is several nights now. You sure you
    don't want to check with Medical?
    COLBERT
    What more can they do? They've already
    placed me on a dozen different
    prescriptions.
    He picks up a small orange bottle from nearby, finds it
    empty.
    COLBERT (CONT'D)
    I'm getting sick of the pills.
    BROOKS
    You can't go on like this. What about
    extended leave?
    COLBERT
    I'm fine. It's just, uh, routine I need
    to go through... to clear my head.
    Colbert pats a bare thigh. She doesn't believe him for a
    second. She wants him to look her in the eye and say it, but
    he won't.
    BROOKS
    Was it those aliens again? The ones you
    told me about?
    COLBERT
    No. They're history.
    He gets up, fumbles for his clothes.
    BROOKS
    You can tell me what's going on, Jason.
    I do care.
    COLBERT
    It's not open for discussion, Sammie. I
    told you. Better off if we don't talk
    about it. Now get dressed.
    Brooks stares at him.
    BROOKS
    You're right. We should just fuck.
    COLBERT
    That's not what I meant.
    (beat)
    You'd better get dressed.
    He leaves. Brooks watches him go, draws up her knees to her
    chin, feeling horrible. Another attempt at closure gone bad.
    INT. COLBERT'S BATHROOM - DAY
    The bathroom lights BRIGHTEN. Colbert appears through the
    doorway. The frame lights up neon blue, chimes, and begins
    SPEAKING in a soft, feminine voice.
    RECORDING VOICE (V.O.)
    Good morning, Colonel. The temperature
    outside is currently 71 degrees.
    Forecast includes cloudy skies, and mild
    sunshine.
    Colbert taps a shelf on the bathroom sink. It slides out,
    filled with water. He scoops a handful and splashes his
    face.
    CLOSE ON COLBERT looking up at the mirror, gazing at his
    reflection. He sees Brooks passing by the door with her
    clothes. A longing moment between them, then she moves off
    in silence.
    EXT. DEEP SPACE - HOMEWORLD PLANET
    Light-years away. A corporate science vessel ROARS by us,
    heading towards Homeworld.
    EXT. SCIENCE VESSEL - OUTSKIRTS
    We DESCEND with the ship to a dark oceanic world. A giant
    ball of water, mist, and volcanic rocks, seemingly barren and
    devoid of life.
    EXT. BIONATIONAL LAB
    The ship approaches the FACILITY, b.g., the only piece of
    technology on the planet. Forty-two inch thick reinforced
    concrete walls, interspersed with watchtowers and giant
    floodlights, form the perimeters of the facility. A
    nightmarish penitentiary island sitting in the dark waters.
    EXT. WATCHTOWER
    Each of the towers are self-guided weapon platforms. TWIN
    GIANT GATLING-LIKE CANNONS mounted on a turret top. They
    move, tracking the passing science vessel like sentries.
    EXT. SCIENCE VESSEL
    The ship passes over some buildings, all connected by tunnels
    and conduits. Multi-level, concrete and steel reinforced
    walls. There are large BIO-DOMES, specifically constructed
    to contain any one type of natural habitat. We can SEE
    through the thick plexi-glass shrubbery, trees, artificial
    sunlight generated by the overhead sunlamps.
    INT. BIO-DOME
    A woman is sitting on an iron-wrought bench, reading a novel.
    We see the title clearly, Pearl Buck's The Good Earth. Way
    up top, through the glass, the ship passes.
    EXT. SCIENCE VESSEL
    The ship pivots towards a central complex. On top is a
    saucer type tower which serves as OPERATIONS/OPS. Landing
    beacons light up around one of the giant bay doors. The
    vessel descends towards the landing bay, into --
    INT. DOCKING BAY
    The expansive hold is busy. Technicians and mechanics moving
    to and from places, machinery everywhere. Loaders moving
    cargo.
    SUPER: HOMEWORLD BIONATIONAL LABORATORY
    The vessel lands on a marked pad as the bay doors close
    behind.
    INT. DOCKING BAY - SCIENCE VESSEL
    A loading ramp descends from the rear of the ship. The
    pilot, a smoking loafer, LIKOWSKI, is on it holding an
    electronic manifest. He is greeted by Doctor TOBIAS DRYNER,
    aging, balding, serious, and head of the Medical and Research
    Department.
    LIKOWSKI
    You Dryner?
    DRYNER
    Yes. Has the ship been prepared?
    Likowski takes a drag from his cigarette, looks over the
    manifest, enumerating some things.
    LIKOWSKI
    Yeah, cargo hold's got the works.
    Temperature stabilizers for food, new
    reinforced walls...
    DRYNER
    They have been coated with the polymer
    resin I specified?
    LIKOWSKI
    Yeah, we got Nyalic all over it. You
    don't gotta worry about a thing. This
    ship's never had a problem with leaks.
    Nothing is gonna eat through that even if
    it did.
    (off Dryner's nod)
    I need your identification codes here.
    He hands the manifest off to Dryner, looks behind the doctor,
    notices the techs wheeling in their package to deliver.
    WHIP PAN TO:
    The entourage. DOLLY AHEAD OF TECHS escorting a detached
    self-powered hypersleep capsule. They reach the loading ramp
    of the ship. Likowski shrugs, lights up another cigarette.
    Dryner returns the manifest, checks on the capsule.
    ANGLE ON DRYNER punching a few buttons. There's a monitoring
    system for the patient's heartbeat...BEEP...BEEP...BEEP...in
    a steady rhythm. We SEE through the fiberglass of the canopy
    frozen air swirling inside the capsule.
    LIKOWSKI
    Sending one of yours back to Earth?
    DRYNER
    Yes.
    LIKOWSKI
    All this for him? Must have done
    something right.
    DRYNER
    This patient is special.
    Likowski looks over the capsule, notices the smoke clearing
    to show the body of the patient inside in deep slumber. In
    fact the torso is all we see. No limbs. No head. The chest
    cavity moves as if it were breathing. It's alive.
    ON LIKOWSKI, shocked, cigarette dangling from his lips now.
    Dryner appears, punches some more buttons. A covering slides
    over the canopy, locking it inside.
    DRYNER
    Have you never seen a clone before? Just
    remember, follow the directions
    precisely. The room temperature is most
    important, it needs to be stable. One of
    our synthetics will accompany back to
    Earth to watch over, around the clock.
    Just in case. Understand?
    Likowski can only nod, stepping aside as the techs load the
    capsule into the ship.
    DRYNER
    Good.
    INT. BIOLAB - LATER
    A huge high-tech chamber of dark steel. TECHNICIANS and
    MEDICAL OPS moving across catwalks, some observing below.
    PAN UP to reveal a gigantic aquarium set in the center.
    INSIDE, are multiple stasis tubes, liquid-filled, each with
    an alien inside.
    PUSH CLOSER,
    The aliens are unlike we've ever seen, thanks to some genetic
    manipulations. One of them has a pallor exoskeleton, and we
    think we see actual eyes. Another a brutish form, stockier
    frame, with spikes. Another a complete abomination. None of
    them move.
    Surrounding the aquarium, are machinery, computers analyzing
    bio-readouts. People in biohazard suits taking note of the
    data. More with EXOTIC RIFLES, standing guard.
    Up above, more LABCOATS watch from a glass-paned window.
    DOORS SLIDE OPEN
    Dryner steps in, walking across the Lab.
    ANGLE ON A STASIS TUBE - THE PALLOR ALIEN
    The pupils follow Dryner passing by.
    INSIDE THE AQUARIUM
    A huge STEEL CONTAINER is brought in from an open bay, lifted
    by hydraulics from a lift. As soon as it is lowered to the
    ground, SOMETHING BIG inside bangs at the box with bone-
    jarring impacts.
    Dryner stops, glances through the glass.
    BACK INSIDE, armed GUARDS with helmets rush in, surrounding
    the cage.
    GUARD CAPTAIN
    (filtered)
    Increase to maximum frequency.
    Just as each of the guards start adjusting their TUNING FORK-
    like PISTOLS, an ALIEN bursts through, sending the cage door
    clanging to the floor.
    The guards trigger their weapons en masse, sending a WHIRRING
    SOUND. The alien is struck back by some unseen physical
    force, reeling in pain. Using the sound, the guards force
    the alien up into an empty stasis tube.
    Dryner watches all this impassively.
    DRYNER
    Was that container magnetically sealed?
    LAB-TECH
    No, sir. We thought...
    DRYNER
    Do not think. Follow the instructions.
    One mistake, can kill all of us.
    LAB-TECH
    Yes, sir. It won't happen again.
    Dryner eyes him, and LEAVES.
    INT. OPERATIONS/OPS
    The heart and nerve center of the entire facility. A giant
    screen covers one wall serving as the visual monitor.
    Multiple tables with individual screens for holographic maps
    and projections of the lab.
    Dryner ENTERS the room. One of the Op-Techs brings up visual
    on the big screen.
    HIS POV: He sees the outer bay doors of the hold opening and
    the science vessel emerging slowly, thrusters roaring. It
    picks up speed, starting the journey back to Earth with its
    special cargo.
    REINE (O.S.)
    One small step for man, another giant
    leap for mankind. Don't you think?
    Doctor LOUIS REINE, shorter and jollier than his colleague
    and the head honcho who runs the Lab here. He joins Dryner,
    elated.
    DRYNER
    Yes.
    REINE
    Your work here will be etched upon the
    commandments of science for centuries to
    come. You should be proud.
    DRYNER
    Oppenheimer, Fermi, Ruthford, Graecus,
    and dare I say even Monsanto. Could they
    have known what their research would lead
    to?
    


	2. Part One: Pages 11-20


    REINE
    Come now. Don't be so modest. It has
    taken us years to perfect this technology
    and to finally to put it into use. We
    will have new medications, new vaccines.
    Our latest product in the market is
    already doing wonders with our athletic
    buyers.
    Dryner stares at the visual screen.
    REINE
    Tell me, Tobias. What's on your mind?
    DRYNER
    We've already seen what they can do. I'm
    asking myself how much longer until our
    CEO's introduce them to the more
    confrontational parties.
    REINE
    We've had a mutual and beneficial
    partnership for over ten years now.
    DRYNER
    Mutual? It's because of those Collectors
    we have control of this planet. What if
    they take a sudden disinterest in us?
    Reine puts a friendly hand on Dryner's shoulder, leads him
    away.
    REINE
    Time's changed, my friend. I am sure we
    are more than capable of handling our
    cultures here. If they wish to leave, so
    be it.
    (off Dryner shaking his head)
    Confidence can go a long way, my friend.
    Our situation now is no different than it
    was ten years ago when we made first
    contact. There's nothing to fear.
    DRYNER
    They don't fear us, Reine. That's the
    problem. They fear them.
    Dryner looks back, Reine's eyes following as we also move to
    --
    The windows. Situated in the night is a huge mammoth of bio-
    mechanoid steel in a distinct U-Shaped design. We remember
    it as the Derelict Spacecraft, except it is very much alive.
    INT. COLBERT'S KITCHEN - DAY
    Colbert is standing by the countertop, in his robes. He's
    busy flipping through the channels on his wallscreen
    television with a remote. The place is exceptionally well
    off.
    VOICE FROM VIDEO
    ... Bionational. Helping build a cleaner,
    brighter future for all nations.
    The channel changes --
    SPOKESMAN
    American Express. Don't leave Earth
    without it.
    Changes again to an attractive newscaster.
    NEWSCASTER
    And more bloodshed from the warfront...
    Colbert sets aside the remote, leans back, listening. In a
    small corner of the screen, an INSERT of the planet, RIGEL
    SIX. We make out some ships, military, orbiting around it.
    NEWSCASTER (CONT'D)
    ...where Colonial warships bombarded a
    shipyard in New Beijing on Rigel Six.
    Immediately upon the conclusion of the
    attack, Colonial Marines landed outside
    the city, and engaged in an intense three
    hour firefight with the U.P.P. National
    Guard...
    Colbert heads for his fridge, pulls it open.
    NEWSCASTER (CONT'D)
    ...civilian casualties from the
    bombardment and siege are estimated to
    exceed twenty thousand. The President
    and his staff defended the sudden attack
    on civilian territory, firmly believing
    with substantial evidence that the U.P.P.
    are concealing bio-weapon factories
    within their populace...
    Colbert pulls out a couple of small aluminum trays. He looks
    back at the wallscreen. The insert changes to a STILL PHOTO
    OF GEN. SCHOFIELD, a middle-aged man of commanding presence.
    The insert of the General expands to fill the screen.
    JUMP CUT TO:
    THE PRESS CONFERENCE. A grim General Schofield is standing
    on a podium with his aides behind him, greeted by a hoard of
    unrelenting reporters of the media vying to get his
    attention. He is in the middle of a stirring and patriotic
    speech, shaking his fists like the days of Nixon.
    SCHOFIELD
    ...for the safety of our families, and
    our children. We will not stand by and
    watch weapons of mass destruction be
    produced right at our doorstep!
    JUMP CUT TO:
    COLBERT'S KITCHEN
    Brooks appears, buttoning up her regulations.
    BROOKS
    I'll see you later?
    COLBERT
    Yeah. See you soon.
    She's about to say something else, decides not to, and
    leaves.
    EXT. COLBERT'S APARTMENT - DAY
    Brooks steps out the door, bumps into First Lieutenant
    MICHAEL COLBERT in an officer's dress-black. He is the
    younger brother, mid to late 20s, cool and suave. She snaps
    to attention. He peers down at her.
    MICHAEL
    Corporal.
    BROOKS
    Sir.
    MICHAEL
    As you were.
    Brooks salutes, steps past him briskly. Michael, walks
    through the door.
    INT. COLBERT'S KITCHEN - DAY
    Colbert turns to the door, looks surprised.
    COLBERT
    Michael.
    MICHAEL
    Good morning, Colonel.
    COLBERT
    Jason is fine for this morning.
    (returns to his coffee)
    What are you doing back so soon? You
    should be home.
    MICHAEL
    We've got problems over at Rigel Six.
    GENstaff is recalling everyone to duty.
    COLBERT
    Everyone?
    Michael nods, finds himself a seat.
    MICHAEL
    Word is filtering Second Corps by
    division. Our crew won't like this.
    COLBERT
    Well with good reason. Most of our
    people are about to go on leave.
    President fearing retaliation for the
    bombings?
    MICHAEL
    Top brass thinks somewhere in the next
    couple of weeks. They're not taking any
    chances. We need to be ready.
    COLBERT
    Incredible. Diplomacy's gone down the
    chute and here we are, war games.
    Coffee?
    MICHAEL
    Yeah, thanks.
    He watches the press conference on the wallscreen. It
    switches to a live telecast of a demonstration outside the
    White House. Hovercams recording people with posters like
    "We Remember 'Nam", and "Make Love, Not War".
    MICHAEL
    Christ, with all this heat no wonder the
    President wants this all done and fast.
    COLBERT
    Enter the art of persuasive brutality,
    our art.
    Colbert hands him a steaming cup.
    MICHAEL
    You don't believe in it either?
    COLBERT
    No.
    (motions to the wallscreen)
    The U.P.P. are trying real hard to level
    the playing field with us. While we, the
    protagonists of this story, try to do the
    sensible thing and stop them from doing
    so. Sound familiar? Breakfast?
    Michael nods. He spots something different with Colbert. A
    distinct off-beat with his actions.
    MICHAEL
    You know you like homemade shit today.
    Sammie work you over?
    COLBERT
    I dreamt again.
    MICHAEL
    Dreaming used to be a good thing. That's
    what Pops used to say.
    Colbert tosses the trays into a microwave.
    COLBERT
    Yeah, I remember. Seriously, Mike, I'm
    about to lose my mind.
    MICHAEL
    You want to talk about it? We have time.
    A beat.
    COLBERT
    Yeah, sure.
    EXT. PGSS FIELD - DAY
    Torrential downpour as far as the eye could see, which is
    about three inches. Then, twin headlights appear through the
    rain. A beat up jeep splashes through the mud.
    SUPER: POWER GRID SWITCHING STATION - LIMA, PERU
    EXT. SALVAJE'S SHACK - PGSS FIELD
    The jeep pulls to a stop. PINDAR, a holotech jumps out, and
    runs, shielding himself and equipment he's holding vainly
    against the rain with his raincoat.
    He reaches a small two-level shack. The wall thick with mold
    from the moisture, hardly recognize it was once concrete.
    Pindar opens the door, it CREAKS.
    INT. SALVAJE'S SHACK - DAY
    It's dark inside, with only one functional ceiling lamp.
    Pindar shakes off some rain, triggers a device near his
    waist. The raincoat shimmers, FOLDS UP, and then vanishes.
    GHOSTLY VOICE (O.S.)
    You're late.
    PINDAR
    Senor, between my day job and this shit,
    it's lucky I can find time to sleep.
    GHOSTLY VOICE (O.S.)
    I care nothing for your sleep. I pay
    well.
    The man steps into the light. Late 30s, tight jawed, long
    slick black hair doing a good job reflecting light,
    expression like a zombie. He is actually MORSE, a long have
    been released ex-con, now a fanatical cultist and going by
    the name SALVAJE.
    SALVAJE
    Now follow, please.
    He turns back into the darkness, Pindar follows.
    INT. COMM-ROOM - DAY
    A small room, several pieces of crude communications
    equipment and a terminal patched together to intercept
    satellite signals, television. Instant access to the news of
    the world.
    SALVAJE
    There.
    Salvaje motions to a cam resting on a table in the center of
    the room. Pindar is impressed, examines the equipment.
    PINDAR
    Damn, where'd you get this antique? It
    looks like an old ship's monitor.
    SALVAJE
    Where I got it is not important. Can you
    use it to tie us into the Nets?
    PINDAR
    Senor, I can tie you into the Nets with a
    toaster and a couple of microwave cooker
    circuit boards.
    (off Salvaje's silence)
    Si. I can put you on the air. But
    visual and auditory only. No sublimes,
    no subsonics, no olfactories. Be pretty
    tame compared to what your competition
    is throwing at the GU.
    SALVAJE
    The Great Unwashed will hear the truth of
    my message without trickery.
    (beat)
    And they will see the image of the True
    Messiah. Such things will be enough.
    Salvaje joins Pindar at the table. The tech shudders, as if
    a sudden gust of cold wind takes him despite in layered
    clothing. Everything about Salvaje makes him uneasy.
    SALVAJE
    Behold!
    He touches a control on an old projector on the table and a
    HOLOGRAM shimmers to life behind him. Pindar TURNS, sees it
    materializing into --
    THE MESSIAH, an artist's approximation of the alien creature
    but we get the idea. A testament of Salvaje's madness.
    PINDAR
    Madre de Dios!
    SALVAJE
    The Messiah.
    Pindar STEPS AROUND the hologram, looking closer at its
    banana-shaped head, jaw dropping near to the floor.
    PINDAR
    I can put you on the air in five
    minutes...
    Pindar turns away from the hologram, picks up the camera.
    PINDAR
    ...along with your messiah. But I wonder
    that anyone will look upon this thing and
    think it might deliver them, senor. I
    myself would expect to see it in Hell.
    SALVAJE
    Do not blaspheme about that which you do
    not understand.
    PINDAR
    Your money.
    He works on the camera. Ties it into a shunt, and rigs a
    relay transmitter. Pindar moves quickly to the power unit
    and control console, tapping codes into an orbiting broadcast
    satellite.
    On the plasma-screen, he enters in the code, holds on the
    last digit.
    PINDAR
    When I input the final number, you will
    have three minutes before the WCC locks
    its trace on our signal. Two more
    minutes and they will find the dish I hid
    in Madras, and two minutes after that
    they will find this place. Best you hold
    your transmission to five minutes. I
    have an automatic cut off thirty seconds
    after that. I will have to find another
    bounce dish if you wish to broadcast
    again.
    SALVAJE (O.S.)
    Esta no importa.
    ANGLE ON SALVAJE now staring at the hologram, reaching for
    it, as if to stroke it. His fingers pass through, an eerie
    smile.
    SALVAJE
    Others will have heard the call, the call
    of the Messiah. I must speak to them
    all.
    Pindar shakes his head behind Salvaje's back, guy's
    definitely gone round the bend, crazy as a shithouse rat.
    PINDAR
    Okay. In four seconds...Three...Two...
    One.
    Pindar hits the final key. The screen HUMS, granting
    linkage. He takes the camera, aims at Salvaje. Salvaje
    TURNS TO THE CAMERA.
    PINDAR'S POV through the camera, Salvaje smiling --
    SALVAJE
    Good day, fellow seekers. I have come to
    you with the Great Truth. The coming of
    the True Messiah.
    CUT TO:
    INT. COLBERT'S KITCHEN - DAY
    Michael is alone in the kitchen, his turn flipping through
    the channels on the wallscreen, stops at one channel. It's
    distorted, some static, but we see Salvaje.
    SALVAJE (V.O.)
    ...join us, my friends. Join the Church
    of Immaculate Incubation. Receive the
    ultimate communion. Become one with the
    True Messiah.
    The cameraman now swings to the hologram, showing the Alien
    to the viewers. Michael shakes his head and hits the off on
    the remote just as Colbert emerges from another room, in his
    own officer's black.
    MICHAEL
    Freak.
    COLBERT
    News on Schofield again?
    MICHAEL
    Some psycho preaching salvation.
    COLBERT
    Sounds like my old D.I.
    Colbert sits down at the dining table. Puts on his glasses.
    He adjusts his frames. They SHIMMER adapting to vision.
    MICHAEL
    By the way, you'll have to call Sara and
    cancel our Jupiter cruise before we go.
    COLBERT
    She's your sister, too.
    MICHAEL
    I had no say.
    Colbert punches in a few commands at his notebook, looks
    through as data scrolls down. Something catches his eye.
    COLBERT
    That's odd...
    MICHAEL
    What's up?
    COLBERT
    I'm looking at my mail. I have squad
    transfers from base, standard things, but
    there's more. Looks like a cargo
    manifest for an out-going transport.
    Reports from several LSS units, loaders.
    MICHAEL
    Christ man, they're not gonna put you on
    Ground Supply duty are they?
    Colbert shakes his head, hits a few more buttons. The data
    from the disc scrolls down the screen again. His eyes
    narrow, suspicious. Reloads the data again --
    COLBERT
    Wait a second, this isn't right.
    Colbert types a few commands on his keyboard. We SEE a new
    cursor appear, moving down the data line-by-line, changing.
    COLBERT
    Remember how our squads used to sneak
    messages by our COs?
    MICHAEL
    Yea. Disguise it with junk mail and pick
    some words as a key to open them. That's
    old school.
    COLBERT
    (nodding)
    Right. It just popped into my mind when
    I saw...there we go.
    The cursor finishes to the last line. The message
    materializes into a new one. Colbert looks through. His
    heart nearly jumps to his throat after reading.
    COLBERT
    Sweet Jesus, I'm heading to base. Lock
    my place up.
    Colbert gets up and rushes for the door.
    INT. CELL BLOCK CORRIDOR - DAY
    TIGHT ON TRACTOR TREADS of some machine slowly moving down
    the smooth, glossy floor. PULL BACK TO REVEAL a bizarre
    robot looking like a supped up Johnny 5. A GUARD BOT.
    SUPER: MILCOM DETENTION CENTER
    The guard bot stops at one of the STEEL DOORS.
    CUT TO:
    INT. CELL - DAY
    TIGHT ON A FIGURE in the darken room, sitting on the bunk
    unmoving, like the man in deep thought statue.
    The door to his cell slides open, light creeps on Wilks.
    What we see now is a tough looking, grizzled old man, with an
    ugly scar running up the length of his left cheek.
    Depressing, to the point of suicidal. Wilks averts his eyes,
    trying to avoid the light.
    His cellmate, TWO-TIMER, turns in his bunk, away from the
    door.
    The robot speaks in an electronic voice.
    GUARD BOT
    Corporal Wilks! Front and center!
    Wilks rubs his eyes.
    GUARD BOT
    Corporal Wilks!
    WILKS
    Yeah, yeah, what?
    GUARD BOT
    You are to report to New Annapolis Naval
    Base.
    WILKS
    Fuck you, tinhead. I got two more days
    to serve on the S&D.
    GUARD BOT
    You wish, pal. Your high-rank friends
    say otherwise. Up-levels wants you, OTD.
    WILKS
    What high-rank friends?
    TWO-TIMER
    What friends, period.
    GUARD BOT
    Let's go, marine. I am to escort you out
    of Milcom soonest. Your skip is waiting.
    Wilks gets up, looking almighty dubious, and EXITS.
    INT. DRYNER'S QUARTERS - BIONATIONAL LAB
    TIGHT ON DRYNER asleep. We catch his eyelids flutter. He
    MUMBLES something incoherent, then suddenly his eyelids
    spring open, startled. He jumps out of his bed, heads to his
    phone console.
    TIGHT ON DRYNER as he hits the console on.
    DRYNER
    Ops.
    STAND BY prints out on the screen and is then replaced by the
    face of a security officer.
    OPS SECURITY
    (on console)
    Dr. Dryner, I was just about to...
    DRYNER
    The Collectors. Did they leave?
    OPS SECURITY
    Yes, Doctor. They have just taken off.
    A look of unmistakable dread falls over his face.
    INT. CONFERENCE SIDE ROOM - NEW ANNAPOLIS NAVAL BASE - DAY
    Wilks, all cleaned up now, stares at a console screen. A
    woman's voice drones from the console.
    WOMAN (V.O.)
    ...I should reach the frontier in another
    five weeks.
    


	3. Part One: Pages 21-30


    WILKS' POV: The face of an attractive woman dominating the
    screen. Her name is Ellen Ripley.
    RIPLEY (V.O.)
    With a little luck the network will pick
    me up.
    (beat)
    This is Ripley, W564502460H, executive
    officer, last survivor of the commercial
    starship Nostromo signing off.
    The screen cuts to static. Wilks looks away.
    WILKS
    Okay, I've seen it.
    MARINE GUARD
    Follow me, Corporal.
    The marine EXITS the room. Wilks, visibly shaken now, knees
    almost giving out. He puts a hand to a chair, steadying
    himself, before following.
    INT. HALLWAY - DAY
    Security cameras tracking Wilks and the Guard carefully.
    INT. HALLWAY - OUTSIDE SECURITY DOOR - DAY
    The marine guard motions Wilks to the sensor. A scanning
    laser taps a red dot against his eye. The door's comp I.D.s
    him in a blink, slides open.
    MARINE GUARD
    Go on in.
    Wilks steps into the room.
    INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY
    A large bland chamber, with an oval desk to seat about dozen
    people in the center of the room. Two of the seats are
    occupied. Major STEPHENS, from the Colonial Marines, no
    medals, desk pilot bound. The other Agent WAIDSLAW ORONA
    from the TIA (Terran Intelligence Agency). Think Feds but
    expand the interests into space as well. Wilks comes to
    attention and salutes.
    STEPHENS
    At ease, marine.
    Orona gets up and walks over to Wilks, hand extended warmly.
    ORONA
    Corporal Wilks. A pleasure.
    Wilks' deadpan expression remains unmoved. His eyes forward,
    hands behind his back, full attention. Orona nods, and
    withdraws.
    ORONA
    Well, let's get this going, shall we?
    You saw the recording.
    WILKS
    I saw it.
    ORONA
    What did you think?
    WILKS
    I thought she'd have made a better marine
    than three-fourths our corps.
    STEPHENS (O.S.)
    Wilks...
    ANGLE ON STEPHENS as he regard the marine with clasped hands
    and discriminating impression. He motions to Orona.
    STEPHENS
    This is Agent Orona, from the TIA.
    ORONA
    Waidslaw is fine. Now, that recording
    was taken over sixty years ago. I
    believe that was our first contact with
    the species. Why we are unsure, well
    unfortunately the responsible party who
    made the first contact became a little
    too ambitious and nearly kept it away
    from the rest of society.
    TIGHT ON STEPHENS chiming in again.
    STEPHENS
    Weyland Yutani International. They're up
    to their necks in lawsuits with the
    Acheron incident. A lot of people died
    and a lot of our marines as well.
    ORONA
    Most unfortunate. Now I understand you
    ran into these things before, didn't you?
    WILKS
    Yeah.
    ORONA
    Tell me about it.
    Wilks turns his head.
    WILKS
    What can I tell you that you don't
    already know? You've seen the recordings
    of my examination, haven't you?
    ORONA
    You were being evaluated, under close
    eyes. Consider this chit-chat.
    WILKS
    Do I have stupid tattooed on my forehead?
    If there isn't a battery of recording
    gear going full blast right now I'll eat
    that fucking table.
    ORONA
    Corporal, I assure you...
    STEPHENS
    Wilks, give him your story. That's an
    order.
    Wilks glowers at Stephens, but protocol wins over.
    WILKS
    All right. I was part of a unit sent to
    check on a colony on Rim. We'd lost
    contact with them. We found one
    survivor, a little girl named Billie.
    Everybody else had been slaughtered by
    some kind of alien. Same thing that got
    Ripley's crew on that recording. One of
    them got onto the lander when it dusted
    off. Killed the pilot, crashed it. We
    had a full platoon, stuck on the ground.
    Only myself, two other marines, and the
    little girl made it out. They shipped
    her off to live with relatives on Ferro,
    after they wiped her memory. She was a
    good kid, considering all the shit she
    saw. Later I heard there was another
    nest of the things somewhere, killed
    another colony. Supposedly a marine and
    a couple of civilians got away from that
    one, too.
    ORONA
    Yes, that was Acheron.
    WILKS
    When I got back, the medics patched me
    up, then took my brain apart. Only thing
    was, all of a sudden nobody wanted to
    know from aliens eating colonists and
    laying eggs in them. It got buried. Top
    secret, total wipe like the kid if I
    opened my mouth. I lost contact with the
    other surviving marines. I assumed they
    were treated the same way. That was more
    than a dozen years ago. End of story.
    Orona nods to himself, and moves off, mulling over his words.
    STEPHENS
    You got a bad attitude, Wilks.
    ORONA (O.S.)
    Mr. Stephens.
    ON ORONA back to his smiling self.
    ORONA
    Do you suppose I might have a word with
    the corporal alone?
    STEPHENS
    (nodding)
    All right. Corporal, I'll talk to you
    later.
    Stephens leaves. An odd moment of silence between the two in
    the room. Orona gestures to a chair.
    ORONA
    Why don't you have a seat, Mr. Wilks.
    WILKS
    Why don't you cut the bullshit and get to
    it, Waidslaw.
    ORONA
    All right. I understand your anxiety.
    Stop me if I get any of it wrong. After
    you managed to escape Rim, you spend six
    months in quarantine like the others, to
    make sure you weren't infected with some
    kind of alien virus. Nobody even tried
    to see you, no personal visits, nada.
    You wouldn't even let them reconstruct
    your face.
    WILKS
    Chicks love scars. Makes'em sympathetic.
    ORONA
    When you were put back on active duty,
    you turned into a chemhound. Nine
    arrests and subsequent terms in the brig
    for Stoned and Disorderly. Three for
    assault, two for damage to property, one
    for attempted homicide.
    WILKS
    Guy had a big mouth.
    ORONA
    I specialize in genetics, Corporal, but
    anybody who's ever taken a psych course
    can see you're on a one-way trip down the
    reaction tubes.
    WILKS
    What do you care? It's my life.
    Orona moves in close to Wilks.
    ORONA
    When the clowns from Weyland Yutani tried
    controlling this species, twice, lives
    and money had been wasted. What could
    have been potential remarkable
    discoveries all ended up as craters the
    size of the former U.S. We think they
    are still alive out there.
    WILKS
    Ask me if I care.
    ORONA
    Oh, you should, Corporal. We have strong
    reason to believe a pharmaceutical
    corporation has been in possession of
    them now for years tucked away in a
    facility out of our borders. We believe
    that is how they are generating billions
    of dollars in the past decade. I'm sure
    you've probably used one of their
    products. They're the leading
    distributor of today's nonabrasive
    stimulants and high-performance drugs.
    No response. Orona studies him, and turns away.
    ORONA
    Since Weyland went down, some hard
    decisions needed to be made. Progress is
    happening here at a frightening pace, and
    as a consequence, rules need to be
    redefined and amended. The Supreme Court
    has already made a decision. They are
    putting the clamps down on patentable
    life forms making it difficult for any
    exclusive rights.
    (beat)
    Bottom line is, if our suspicions are
    true, then we have an unlicensed product
    here. We will stop them anyway, legally
    or by force. I want you to go there,
    check it out, and if they have one, bring
    it to me.
    WILKS
    You're insane. I won't volunteer for it.
    ORONA
    Oh, but you will.
    For the first time in awhile, we SEE Wilks blink. Animated
    now, nervous, perhaps even scared. Orona senses it, turns to
    Wilks with a renewed smile, pushes the blade deeper,
    twisting.
    ORONA
    You know that little girl you rescued?
    She's actually here. On Earth. In a
    mental center. They keep her sedated and
    run a lot of tests on her.
    Wilks loses the facade, looks at Orona.
    ORONA
    Poor child. She has these recurring
    nightmares, you see. Apparently the
    brainwipe didn't completely take. She
    remembers things, in her dreams. It's
    quite sad. No family anywhere. No
    friends. A lonely victim just like you.
    Even the Church of Jesus Christ thinks
    she's beyond help.
    (beat)
    She could disappear in a blink of an eye.
    You could take her place and wind up in
    there as well. We could do a lot of
    things if you don't do the right thing.
    WILKS
    (beat)
    Okay, I'll go.
    Orona draws back his lips, smiling.
    INT. LOBBY - NEW ANNAPOLIS NAVAL BASE - DAY
    Colbert enters the building through SLIDING DOORS and
    approaches the receptionist desk. A striking red head
    working there sees him, notices the brass, gives him a bright
    smile.
    RECEPTIONIST
    Good morning, Colonel.
    COLBERT
    Good morning. I'm trying to locate
    Corporal Wilks. I understand he's
    attending a meeting here.
    RECEPTIONIST
    Just a moment, sir, let me see what I
    have here.
    (re:off her monitor)
    Yes. He was with Major Stephens, and Mr.
    Waidslaw Orona from the TIA. They were
    done not too long ago.
    Colbert silently curses himself, not at all pleased missing
    it.
    RECEPTIONIST
    Would you like me to contact them, sir?
    To double check?
    COLBERT
    No, that's okay. Thank you.
    RECEPTIONIST
    (eying him)
    Anytime.
    The woman smiles, with a just enough sigh to give off an oh-
    what-things-could-have-been. Colbert notices, returns the
    favor with a grin, and quickly leaves.
    INT. BAR JOINT - SOMEWHERE IN THE CITY
    A genuine age old historical simulated wood-grain generic
    tavern right down to the ancient jukebox. Soft country music
    going in the b.g. as to a otherwise quiet joint.
    WILKS appears, takes a stool. He looks even older.
    WILKS
    Daniels.
    He reaches into his shirt for his dog tags, fishes it out.
    He's about to pass it to the bartender when the phone console
    from the bar RINGS. The bartender motions for Wilks to wait
    and picks up the receiver.
    BARTENDER
    Joe's Joint.
    GARBLED VOICE from the receiver. The bartender takes Wilks'
    tags, inserts it into a terminal, rings up a shot of Daniels.
    BARTENDER
    Hold on a sec'.
    (to Wilks)
    You're prolly Corporal Wilks, right?
    Wilks pops a glance around the bar. He's the standout.
    WILKS
    Yeah.
    The bartender hands him the receiver. Wilks takes it.
    WILKS
    (into phone)
    Yeah?
    COLBERT
    (over phone, filtered)
    Wilks. It's Colbert. Listen, I'm using
    a land line. I can't be on long. We
    need to talk. Meet me outside Hangar Ten
    in fifteen, you copy? And be discrete.
    WILKS
    Wilco.
    The receiver goes dead. Wilks returns the phone, knocks back
    his drink and slides off his stool.
    EXT. HANGAR #10 - NEW ANNAPOLIS NAVAL BASE - DAY
    Wilks is jogging along a side of the hangar. He comes around
    to the entrance --
    INT. HANGAR #10 - DAY
    Wilks enters, dodging out of the way of a passing cargo
    loader. Few if any workers acknowledging the strolling
    marine. He reaches the more quiet section of the hangar,
    passes under the belly of a Colonial transport vessel.
    COLBERT (O.S.)
    Wilks...
    Wilks turns, SEES Colbert emerging behind one of the vessel's
    giant landing struts.
    COLBERT
    Is it true what they told you?
    Wilks scoffs, turns his back on him.
    COLBERT
    I didn't have much of a choice, Wilks.
    We'd both swore under oath not to...
    Colbert approaches him, sort of a beseeching manner, when
    suddenly, Wilks spins and SWINGS at him. Colbert quickly
    ducks under the punch, steps back defensively. Wilks squares
    off with him, fists clenched.
    WILKS
    Son of a bitch! You left everyone in the
    can, dumping Billie in some insane
    asylum, so you get to go parade around as
    a hero?
    COLBERT
    What the hell are you talking about?
    Jesus Christ, is that what you think
    happened?
    WILKS
    You know the last thing I remember you
    was, you were some punk kid thinking boot
    camp is gonna get you all hard and tough.
    Colbert puts on his best nonchalant expression.
    COLBERT
    Striking a uniformed officer on
    duty...with glasses on, it's going to add
    nicely to the file I've put together for
    you.
    WILKS
    You wanna throw in loitering as well in
    front of an officer?
    COLBERT
    What the hell is wrong with you? It's
    been thirteen years since Rim. I moved
    on.
    WILKS
    Yeah, you have been moving on.
    COLBERT
    No one felt the same pain like we have.
    Do you think I'm jumping for joy every
    morning I wake up after dreaming how all
    of our men were killed on Rim? I wanted
    to forget.
    WILKS
    Well, I guess we're back to the same
    pretty shit now, aren't we? There's an
    entire homeworld of those things and the
    fucks from high-up want one down here.
    Colbert looks away, contemplating.
    COLBERT
    Jesus. I thought our nuke got them all.
    WILKS
    What are we going to do, Colbert? Now
    I'm turning to you. What are we going to
    do?
    COLBERT
    I don't know.
    WILKS
    Fucking great. That just beats it all.
    COLBERT
    What do you want me to do then? Lead a
    parade into D.C.? You forget we're both
    locked in our clauses. One fucking word
    about LV-230 and we're finished.
    WILKS
    I'm already dead, Colbert.
    They both look at each other. Hard reality hurts.
    COLBERT
    We need to get out of here.
    Wilks grabs his arm before he turns.
    WILKS
    Wait. What about Billie?
    COLBERT
    You said she's here on Earth?
    WILKS
    We have to find her.
    EXT. CITY STREET - DAY
    A quiet two-lane street. Suddenly --
    A Humvee appears over the crest of a hill.
    INT. COLBERT'S HUMVEE - DAY
    Colbert sits behind the wheel in two-way communications with
    a console just under the dashboard. Wilks is on the
    passenger side.
    LARA (V.O.)
    You're asking me to crack the C.M.C.
    medical database, Jason. They'll hang my
    butt out to dry if they find out.
    COLBERT
    I know. I need this favor, Kat.
    On the phone console is the glum face of Lieutenant Katherine
    LARA. She wears a USCM nylon baseball cap with a computer
    light-pen tucked in her ear.
    LARA (V.O.)
    The things I do for you. Gimmie a sec.
    She slides off the screen. We hear filtered typing.
    WILKS
    How did you know?
    COLBERT
    Someone sent an encoded file inside my
    mail this morning. I probably wouldn't
    have known until it was too late.
    WILKS
    Who sent it?
    COLBERT
    I thought it was Massey at first. The
    Corps locked him up in a psych center
    right after you were transferred from our
    battalion. He didn't take it too well.
    He escaped about a week later, and no
    one's seen him since.
    WILKS
    They get to him?
    COLBERT
    No. I don't think so.
    LARA (V.O.)
    Jeez. They have this thing tighter than
    a corkscrew.
    COLBERT
    Problems?
    LARA (V.O.)
    I'm trying to slip through their
    firewall. A couple of them actually.
    Hold on, they're doing a trace program.
    Wilks looks down with Colbert.
    LARA (V.O.)
    Bingo. Okay, I'm in.
    COLBERT
    Good. I need you to search the files
    from a mission thirteen years ago. LV-
    230. There's only one. There should be
    a girl named Billie in there.
    LARA (V.O.)
    Jason, you're in here also.
    COLBERT
    I know. Does it say where she is
    currently on Earth?
    LARA (V.O.)
    I'm sending you the data now. What's
    going on here?
    COLBERT
    I'll tell you all about it some other
    time, Kat. Thanks a lot.
    


	4. Part One: Pages 31-40


    LARA (V.O.)
    All right, but you owe me one.
    Colbert hits a few keys on the phone console pad, and reads
    the screen. He puts his hand back to the gear, and
    downshifts.
    INT. MESS HALL - PSYCHIATRIC WARD - DAY
    The cafeteria is nearly empty, a few patients, pale and
    blank, shuffling to their tables with plastic trays. One
    thing we notice oddly, colored PATCHES on their necks.
    SUPER: ST. JAMES STATE HOSPITAL
    PAN TO a young woman, dropping heavy on a seat. It's BILLIE,
    except thirteen years later. Not bad looking, innocent if
    you could wipe away the blatantly dark circles under her eyes
    and the chemical fog she's under the spell of.
    SASHA (O.S.)
    Hey, Billie.
    She looks over. SASHA is another patient, just as pale but
    oddly smiling.
    SASHA (CONT'D)
    Check out Deedee, she's switching
    channels on the 'jector every three
    seconds. Why, I think that girl is
    mentally disturbed!
    BILLIE'S POV: Another girl, DEEDEE, with long black hair.
    Her eyes transfixed on the holo-projector. The small
    holograms blinking rapidly as she changed channels.
    Billie sighs, stirs her plate of noodles with her fork.
    Sasha studies Billie, frowns.
    SASHA
    They've got you on the blues again?
    BILLIE
    Greens.
    SASHA
    Crap, what'd you do, strangle a nurse?
    BILLIE
    The dreams.
    Billie, trying real hard to avoid the conversation, watches
    the holo-projection. A car chase scene. BLINK. A starship
    flying across space. BLINK. An advertisement to join the
    Marines. BLINK.
    SASHA (O.S.)
    C'mon, Billie...
    Sasha scoots up close.
    SASHA
    ...you only have what, a month left until
    your hearing?
    BILLIE
    I won't skate this time either, Sash.
    They can't figure it out. They say my
    folks died in an explosion. I know
    better. I was there!
    Sasha glances nervously up at the ceiling. Cameras record
    everything inside the room.
    SASHA
    Ease up, Billie. The monitors...
    BILLIE
    Fuck the monitors!
    Billie shoves her plate of food across the table, scattering
    the tableware and noodles noiselessly.
    BILLIE
    They can send a ship a hundred light-
    years away to another system, they can
    make an android from amino soup and
    plastic, but they can't cure me of my
    nightmares!
    As if on cue, white-garbed ATTENDANTS appear on the scene.
    Billie struggles madly against them as they haul her away
    from the table. The other patients cover their faces,
    cowering behind their hands.
    BILLIE
    Let me go!
    One of the attendants presses the green patch to her carotid
    and Billie goes limp instantly.
    DISSOLVE TO:
    INT. BILLIE'S CELL - NIGHT
    Billie is curled tightly into a fetal position on the
    cushioned floor, whimpering. VOICES in the background,
    FAINT. PANNING BACK and through the one-way window on a
    wall, we see two figures watching her. A worried looking DR.
    JERRIN, the other a one-milk-shake-too-many DR. HANNAH.
    DR. JERRIN
    She's dreaming again.
    DR. HANNAH
    Trinomine dosage has increased over
    thirty to compensate.
    DR. JERRIN
    Thirty? That's twice the normal. Aren't
    you worried about possible brain damage?
    DR. HANNAH
    Well, that's a risk, isn't it? She's
    already borderline insane and none of the
    conventional therapies have worked so
    far. The state has given the okay to
    explore alternative procedures.
    DR. JERRIN
    She just needs more time.
    MOVING CLOSER to Billie again. A human shadow falls over
    her.
    DR. HANNAH (O.S.)
    It's been over ten years of diagnosis
    without any change. This patient
    absolutely refuses any rehabilitation. I
    think we've given her more than enough
    time, Dr. Jerrin.
    A hand reaches out, touches her shoulder, shaking her.
    Billie wakes with a start, breathing hard.
    SASHA
    (soothing)
    Hey, it's just me.
    BILLIE
    Oh, Sash. Not tonight.
    SASHA
    (giggling)
    No, silly. Not that. You have visitors.
    They claim to be family. Doc sent me to
    tell you.
    BILLIE
    Family? I don't have any family left.
    Sasha shrugs, pulls Billie to her feet.
    SASHA
    Doc says they're in V4 waiting for you.
    You want me to go along?
    BILLIE
    No. I can handle it.
    Billie EXITS.
    INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT
    TIGHT ON BILLIE walking down the corridor. Doctors and
    nurses glancing just to double check, then going back to
    their business. A guard standing near Visiting Room #4 nods
    to Billie.
    INT. V4 - NIGHT
    The door slides open, and Billie steps through. A small
    room, with a polarized glossy black wall on the opposite end
    and a chair. To the right of the chair is a monitor inset
    into the wall. Billie sits down, and the monitor comes to
    life.
    A computerized image of a kindly, elderly grandmother appears
    on the monitor. Her chip-voice, also kindly but full of
    authority as well.
    GRANDMOTHER (V.O.)
    You are being monitored. Any discussion
    of hospital therapy will result in
    termination of this visitation.
    (smiling)
    Visitation is a privilege and not a
    right. You are allowed ten minutes. Is
    this understood?
    BILLIE
    Yeah, right.
    GRANDMOTHER
    Very good. Enjoy your visit.
    Grandmother's image fades to a tiny red dot and the polarized
    wall gradually fades from black to clear. Her eyes widen --
    BILLIE'S POV: A man, one side of his face scarred, sat in the
    chair two meters away from her. There is another, handsome,
    watching her through frames. Both in military uniform.
    WILKS
    Hello, Billie.
    BILLIE
    Cobey? Wilks!
    COLBERT
    I haven't been called that in years. I
    wasn't sure you'd remember us.
    BILLIE
    You - you're real!
    WILKS
    Last time I checked, yeah. How they
    treating you in here?
    Reality slams into her like a cold mallet. Billie chews her
    lip, fighting back tears, puts her hand on the polarized
    wall, trying to reach them.
    BILLIE
    You...you look...different, Wilks.
    Wilks touches the scars on his face.
    WILKS
    Colonial Marine surgeons. Buncha
    butchers.
    BILLIE
    Wh-what are you two doing here?
    Colbert's expression changes. He gets up, and walks off.
    WILKS
    They told me you were in this place. I
    had to come down and see you, once I
    found out you were having the dreams,
    too.
    BILLIE
    About the monsters.
    WILKS
    Yeah, I don't sleep that well myself.
    Haven't since Rim.
    BILLIE
    It was real, wasn't it?
    COLBERT
    It was very real. They had us, we're in
    as long as they keep reactivating our
    secrecy clause, but you were a civilian.
    They decided to wipe you, but it didn't
    work, least not all the way.
    Billie slumps in her chair, mind in recoil.
    BILLIE
    Why did you come?
    WILKS
    They found what they think is the
    homeworld for those things. Someone's
    already gotten control of the planet, and
    they have some big facility set up.
    (beat)
    They're sending me there with some
    troops.
    BILLIE
    To destroy it?
    WILKS
    Maybe. Eventually. I don't know. I
    think MI wants to use the things as some
    kind of weapon.
    BILLIE
    No! You can't let them!
    WILKS
    Kid, I can't stop them. I'm just a
    corporal. No brass.
    Wilks gives a meaningful look at Colbert. He shifts his eyes
    away.
    COLBERT
    It's government priority. Out of our
    jurisdiction. I can petition protest but
    it won't do anything. They'll just wipe
    us.
    BILLIE
    Get me out of here.
    WILKS
    What?
    BILLIE
    I'm not crazy. The memories are real.
    You can tell them. They're trying to
    convince me everything I remember is an
    illusion but you know the truth. Tell
    them. You saved me before, do it again!
    She's panicking now, near hysteria.
    BILLIE (CONT'D)
    They're killing me in here with the
    drugs, the therapy! I have to get out!
    Suddenly the monitor screen to her right activates, flowering
    to Grandmother again.
    GRANDMOTHER
    Discussion of therapy is not allowed.
    This visit is terminated. Please leave
    the visiting area immediately.
    BILLIE
    Wilks, please!
    Wilks stands, fists clenched against the wall.
    GRANDMOTHER (O.S.)
    Please leave the visiting area
    immediately.
    Billie jumps up, leaps at the wall, pounding her fists into
    the hard plastic.
    BILLIE
    Let me go!
    The door behind her opens and TWO ORDERLIES enter. They grab
    Billie forcefully, dragging her away. She is screaming,
    kicking. The wall begins to polarize and DARKEN.
    WILKS
    Hey, fuckheads, let her go!
    Wilks POUNDS the wall with his fists, rears back and SLAMS
    his shoulder against the wall. He does it again. The wall
    remains unmoved. Colbert looks around and grabs a chair. As
    if on cue, the monitor on their side comes to life.
    GRANDMOTHER
    This visit has been terminated. Please
    return all furniture to their proper
    place and exit now. Thank you for
    coming. Have a nice day.
    BILLIE (O.S.)
    Cobey! Wilks! Help me! Help...
    Sound is cut off immediately and the wall is completely
    black. Billie is gone. Wilks leans against the wall,
    staring into his hands.
    WILKS
    Sorry, kid. I'm sorry.
    DISSOLVE TO:
    INT. NEW ANNAPOLIS NAVAL BASE - NIGHT
    DOLLY AHEAD OF ORONA AND STEPHENS as they walk down a hallway
    in the canned-air depths of the base. They are in mid-
    conversation.
    STEPHENS
    He's as nuts as an orchard full of
    filbert trees. If we hadn't needed to
    keep him on a leash, we'd have psych-DCed
    him years ago.
    ORONA
    True, but he's what we've got and
    GENstaff wants him along. You know how
    politics works.
    STEPHENS
    Politics my eye. He's a goddamn wackjob
    straight from hell.
    ORONA
    You wanted a field command. I got you
    one.
    STEPHENS
    Right, carrying Jonah the Jinx into a
    potentially lethal force combat'sit.
    They both stop before a massive door leading to the hangar.
    Orona, a tad agitated, stops Stephens from opening the door.
    ORONA
    Let me put it to you like this, Bill.
    GENstaff will have experienced onboard
    this project. The only other marines we
    know about who have met these things
    face-to-face and survived the encounter
    have either disappeared or gained more
    medals than you. The civilians that were
    saved have either vanished as well or in
    the bughouse, doped to the gills. There
    was also a badly damaged android, but we
    don't have a clue as to what happened to
    it. We're full of mystery here. That
    leaves Wilks.
    STEPHENS
    I don't like it. He's unstable.
    ORONA
    I'm not asking you to like it, or like
    him. I am telling you that GENstaff says
    this is how it's going to be.
    Stephens shakes his head, still not enjoying the thought.
    ORONA
    He's been bumped to sergeant and put in
    charge of loading supplies. How much
    damage can he do there?
    INT. HANGAR #10 - CMS BENEDICT - NIGHT
    Service VEHICLES and CARGO-LOADER SUITS lumber on and off the
    elevator lifts of the Benedict, loading giant crates.
    Stephens appears, frowns at the activity. He stops a PRIVATE
    in one of the suits. The private removes his arms from the
    controls, salutes inside.
    STEPHENS
    What's in those crates, marine?
    PRIVATE
    Sir, plasma rifles and chargers.
    STEPHENS
    Who in the hell authorized plasma
    weapons?
    PRIVATE
    Sir, I don't know, sir. Sergeant Wilks
    ordered us to load them, sir. That's all
    I know, sir.
    STEPHENS
    As you were.
    Stephens stomps into a lift, hitting the controls, going up.
    INT. CMS BENEDICT - LOADING BAY
    We see Wilks directing several cargo loaders.
    STEPHENS (O.S.)
    WILKS!
    Stephens storms into the Loading Bay.
    WILKS
    (in attention)
    Sir.
    STEPHENS
    Where did you get authorization to
    requisition plasma weapons?
    WILKS
    I was ordered to supply the ground troops
    with appropriate weaponry, sir.
    STEPHENS
    And you thought blasters were
    appropriate? We aren't going to war
    here, Sergeant. We are supposed to
    liberate and collect specimens, not
    pieces.
    WILKS
    My experience...
    STEPHENS
    ...has distorted your mind. You've taken
    it upon yourself to provide grossly
    destructive weaponry when standard-issue
    carbines will do. That's what you used,
    wasn't it? And according to your own
    testimony a 10mm AP would stop one of
    these things just fine.
    WILKS
    First time you face off with these
    THINGS, sir, you'll wish you had
    something better.
    STEPHENS
    GENstaff wants you part of my team,
    Wilks. I can't stop that, but I want you
    to plant this firm and deep in your mind.
    You're on my team, so you're going to
    play by my rules. I won't jeopardize
    this mission by splattering potential
    specimens all over the countryside with
    weaponry designed to stop tanks. If you
    want anything special, you come to me and
    only me. Have those blasters removed
    from the ship, ASAP. Is that clear?
    WILKS
    Perfectly clear, Major.
    Wilks eyes Stephens coldly as he leaves.
    EXT. DEEP SPACE
    Homeworld sleeping in space.
    CUT TO:
    INT. OPS - BIONATIONAL LAB
    The entire room seems to be FRITZING OUT. The lights crackle
    on and off. Dryner stands near a bank of failing IMAGING
    SYSTEMS, scared shitless. It's the look we've seen before.
    OPS TECH #1
    The entire power grid is shutting down,
    Doctor!
    DRYNER
    Switch over to auxiliary power, and run a
    systems check.
    OPS TECH #1
    Yes sir.
    OP TECHS work furiously over their consoles. DISTORTED
    LIGHTS from the scrambled systems plays off their faces.
    OPS TECH #2
    We're losing perimeter defenses! Towers
    One, Three, Four, and Seven are down!
    Reine hurries on the scene.
    REINE
    What the hell is going on?
    DRYNER
    We lost one of the creatures three
    minutes ago.
    REINE
    What the hell do you mean lost?
    DRYNER
    It escaped. I don't know how but it
    found a way and somehow it's causing
    massive power failures throughout the
    facility.
    Realization dawns on Reine.
    DRYNER
    We have bigger problems, Reine.
    Dryner turns back to his console. Every piece of electrical
    equipment on Ops starts to shut down, plummets the room to
    darkness. A long scary beat.
    REINE
    The holding pens..?
    DRYNER
    We must evacuate.
    And then, from somewhere deep within the facility, comes a
    loud, powerful, primordial SCREECH we know all too well from
    the Queen.
    CUT TO:
    EXT. MEGAPOLIS - NIGHT
    Window checkered skyscrapers galore. Dominating the scene is
    Bionational Tower. The company logo bearing proudly up top.
    We PAN BACK, hoverhubs and other assorted craft moving along
    the streets.
    SUPER: BIONATIONAL HEADQUARTERS - NEW YORK CITY
    INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT
    GREEN SILKS appears, moving quickly down the elevator
    corridor, papers in hand. He's well groomed, expensive suit
    with a giant diamond collar stud. The straightdown corporate
    VP. One of the gorgeous leggy secretaries getting off work
    catches him.
    SECRETARY
    Have a nice evening, sir.
    GREEN SILKS
    Go home.
    He turns a corner --
    -- passing the secretary's desk and pushing open the double
    doors into --
    


	5. Part One: Pages 41-50


    INT. VP OFFICE - NIGHT
    Luxury city. Rich carpets, darkwood desk, leather chairs,
    the works.
    RED SILKS stands by the massive air-glass window, gazing at
    the breathtaking view of the cityscape, eighty stories up.
    Like his partner, extravagant in every way.
    GREEN SILKS
    (flashy smile, thrusts up papers)
    Latest from our merger proposal with
    Climate Systems. We have a deal.
    RED SILKS
    I knew they'd come around. Massey
    convinced them it's the way to go.
    GREEN SILKS
    Made them an offer they couldn't refuse,
    eh?
    RED SILKS
    Something like that.
    GREEN SILKS
    That man of yours is some wonder. This
    calls for a celebration.
    Red nods, heads off to the DISPENSER set into the wall.
    RED SILKS
    Martini. Shaken and stirred. What do
    you want?
    GREEN SILKS (O.S.)
    Get me some Devil dust.
    RED SILKS
    Devil dust. Half a gram.
    A small tray extrudes itself from the machine with the
    orders, the wine glass and a small mound of pink powder
    inside a hemispherical cup next to a one-shot nasal tube.
    Red picks it up, heads to the desk and sets it there.
    RED SILKS
    We have to talk about this biowarfare
    project.
    Green slides the tray closer.
    RED SILKS (CONT'D)
    The Collectors have left. No doubt
    seeking greener pastures.
    TIGHT ON GREENS placing the tube in his nostril, then lowers
    it near the mound and triggers it. The powder shoots up the
    tube like a compressed gas charge. He grins to himself,
    riding out the ecstasy.
    GREEN SILKS
    Guess we've exhausted all the fine
    experiences Earth has to offer. We
    anticipated this scenario. Our profit
    structure won't be compromised.
    RED SILKS
    That isn't all. We've lost contact with
    Homeworld.
    Green sits up from his chair.
    GREEN SILKS
    Another scenario we anticipated. They
    knew the risks. Worse comes to worst,
    they will evacuate. Besides, their
    families are all covered by the company
    policy.
    Red drinks from his glass thoughtfully.
    GREEN SILKS
    What about this Salvaje of ours? Any
    news?
    RED SILKS
    Massey will handle it. We don't have to
    bother with him. There is a shipment
    coming in a few days. Two specimens.
    GREEN SILKS
    Two? I read it was just one.
    RED SILKS
    One plus an added bonus.
    GREEN SILKS
    Oh, does the bonus have family?
    RED SILKS
    A wife, two kids.
    GREEN SILKS
    (nodding)
    They will get the company policy as well.
    And the government?
    RED SILKS
    Intercept is going as planned.
    Unfortunate we must enact this procedure
    so soon.
    GREEN SILKS
    Better to be prepared than face it
    blindly.
    Red moves behind the large marble desk, admiring the view of
    the giant megapolis before him.
    RED SILKS
    Quan Chu Lin's people submitted their
    offer sheet. It's on the table.
    Green notices the slender INFO PADD, picks it up. He goes
    bug-eyed.
    GREEN SILKS
    Holy shit, and we haven't even given an
    exclusive.
    RED SILKS
    They're just dying to get their hands on
    one, especially with the way this war is
    going, but it won't hurt if we bait the
    waters a little.
    GREEN SILKS
    We can bootstrap this sucker up so high.
    RED SILKS
    We're talking major credits here.
    Billions. Not to mention side offers
    from every milsupply corporation in the
    system.
    GREEN SILKS
    We can't let the government get the jump
    on us. You're positive this guy of yours
    will take care of it? I heard they have
    an expert of their own.
    RED SILKS
    The government has nothing. They've been
    trying to dissect our work for years and
    nothing comes close. We have their
    politicians. They're content with the
    money in their pockets as long as we
    don't fuck up the ozone layer or
    something. And we have the top man in
    Massey.
    GREEN SILKS
    Okay, I'm hearing a lot about this guy,
    but I don't know him. Tell me.
    Red looks back, grins enigmatically that has graced a dozen
    magazine covers. He taps a few buttons on his desktop
    console, swings it around to show his partner.
    RED SILKS
    You'll like this guy. MBA from New
    Harvard, doctorate in corp law from
    Cornell, post-doc work at Mitsubishi U.
    Could have had his pick of any company in
    the system but he enlisted in the
    Marines. Silver Star, four Purple Hearts
    later, he left.
    GREEN SILKS
    Perfect. A real patriot, huh?
    RED SILKS
    He's a merc. Best money can buy. The
    bonus is he's handled these xenomorphs
    before. It's probably what flipped him
    off. I guarantee you, he'll do whatever
    it takes to get the job done.
    GREEN SILKS
    A mercenary with top notch military
    training and a degree, do we have a
    failsafe on this guy?
    RED SILKS
    He is my employee.
    Green cocks an eyebrow.
    RED SILKS
    We've got it covered. He's got a cap of
    C9 secretly circset into his hypothalamus
    during one of his physical evaluations,
    along with a tracer. You don't think
    we'd let a man like that run around
    without a control, do you?
    Green grins to himself, looking over Massey's dossier.
    GREEN SILKS
    Perfect.
    HIS POV: Off of Massey's face looking very menacing without
    trying too hard.
    INT. MASSEY'S SUITE - LATER
    Lavish, if somewhat dark. A mess of clothes on the floor.
    Then, a nude man comes INTO FRAME. Massey years later, body
    structured around years as a merc, with many scars. The ones
    you get from knives. He paces the room in a stony facade,
    deep in brooding contemplation. Behind him is the holo-
    projection of RED SILKS.
    RED SILKS (V.O.)
    ...ten percent up front, the rest I'll
    give you after the job is done. We can
    provide you with everything you need.
    (beat)
    Tie up all loose ends on Earth, Massey,
    then finish up Homeworld. We will
    handle the legal technicalities here.
    Massey nods, moving off to a glass table, his back to Red.
    PAN BACK with him, catching a glimpse of a naked brunette
    lying face down in the midst of sheets.
    RED SILKS (V.O.)
    I'll need to ask you to do an additional
    job, read it up as I send it to you now.
    Massey looms over the table, his attention on a small box.
    The phone console nearby BEEPS to life, lines of data
    scrolling down. We SEE the soft reflection off his body.
    RED SILKS (V.O.)
    Get this done fast and clean and we might
    even toss in a bonus.
    Massey smiles to himself.
    RED SILKS (V.O.)
    Well then. As they say in the Marine
    Corps, happy hunting.
    The hologram disappears. Massey unlocks the box, pulls out a
    small high pressure INJECTOR GUN. He admires it carefully,
    then turns to gaze upon the sleeping brunette. A devilish
    smile --
    CLOSER ON MASSEY as he turns around, heads for the bed. We
    see what appear to be surgical scars at the nape of his neck
    leading up to his skull.
    THE SLEEPING BEAUTY
    Massey sits on the bed, eyes lingering over the smooth of her
    back, to the perfectly round shaped ass. The brunette moans
    in her sleep as Massey gently brushes her hair aside from her
    neck, places the injector at the base of her skull. It
    HISSES SOFTLY as he depresses the trigger.
    INT. BIOLAB - HOMEWORLD
    TRACKING ALONG a row of silent equipment. No activity. No
    movement. A control box suspended on a cable from the
    ceiling swaying, SQUEAKING.
    CUT TO:
    INT. COMMAND CENTER - NAVAL BASE - NIGHT
    The room is state-of-the-art, with computers and
    sophisticated communications gear, looking like mission
    control with its bank of video monitors. A pretty gruff
    looking Brigadier General CAMERON POWERS is with his STAFF in
    heated discussion, while referring to a clear plexi-glass
    star chart nearby. We see Lara with his staff.
    Colbert appears through the sliding doors. He meets up with
    the group.
    POWERS
    Glad you could join us, Colonel. How's
    it look outside?
    COLBERT
    Not too good down the road, sir.
    POWERS
    That's what my ex-wife's lawyer told me
    before our divorce settlement. Listen to
    this.
    (motions to Lara)
    Lieutenant.
    They move over to a large HORIZONTAL VIDEOSCREEN set inside a
    table. Lara brings up several map charts.
    POWERS
    Latest satellite recon reports show
    heavy activity from all of their major
    spacedocks.
    LARA
    Seventeen warships to be exact, six
    Alpha Typhoon class, have been moving in
    the past two hours alone. Here and
    here.
    (indicating various spots)
    Colbert looks away.
    COLBERT
    That's wonderful. How long?
    LARA
    We will be joining the second Rigel
    Expeditionary fleet tomorrow at 0300
    hours.
    COLBERT
    Do our people know?
    POWERS
    Not yet. We'll have to break the news
    after tonight's simulation. Let some of
    them know they won't be going on leave.
    EXT. SIMULATION BUILDING - NIGHT
    Brook's face BACKS INTO SHOT, her cheeks pressed against the
    rifle-stock of her M-41 Carbine, BREATHING hard. She is
    sweaty, her eyes and expression tense and focused, giving off
    an incredible sexy feeling without even trying. She's
    wearing the body armor of the Colonial Marines. Her hair
    piled up under the helmet with image-intensifier VISOR
    snapped down.
    BROOKS
    (hushed)
    Bueller?
    Behind her ART HERMAN now comes, rugged vet whose years have
    yet to catch up, the Platoon Sergeant. Then a big black man
    with a gold tooth, 'BUTCH' REYNOLDS, a man-sized Doberman,
    second squad leader. Everyone is talking in whispers.
    BUTCH
    What is it?
    BROOKS
    Bueller hasn't checked in, sir.
    Herman scowls, raises a fist, signals --
    BEHIND HERMAN
    Emerging from the darkness like ghosts are the rest of the
    platoon:
    A trailmix of soldiers. Tough hombres. Young faces, mixed
    with hard mouth veterans but their eyes tell the same story.
    Each of them are carrying standard Carbines. They gather up
    close to the ruins, keeping careful eyes at the surroundings.
    PULASKI, a huge mountain of a man with a bleached Mohawk,
    grinds teeth.
    PULASKI
    We gonna kick ass or we gonna sit here
    and jerk each other off?
    JESS - pimping smooth black moves up nearby.
    JESS
    Yeah, man. Wuddup with dis hostage
    simulation bullshit, Top?
    HERMAN
    I want absolute noise discipline, people.
    BROOKS
    (into mike)
    Bueller, where are you?
    HER POV IN NIGHT VISION: Augmented by the visor, she looks
    down the street.
    Brooks turns her head back to see her squad , then back to --
    BUELLER'S FACE right up close, grinning. Brooks GASPS.
    BUELLER
    Boo.
    BROOKS
    Christ, Bueller. Don't sneak up on a
    girl like that.
    BUELLER
    Yes, ma'am.
    (to Herman)
    Entry's clean, sir.
    BROOKS
    No EM fields? Motion sensors?
    BUELLER
    I went in and out of the area twice.
    Squat. This simulation is a joke.
    BROOKS
    Top, we can take'em down now.
    The two sergeants turn to each other.
    BUTCH
    I say we finish this and go home.
    HERMAN
    (into mike)
    How about it, LT? What's the sitrep?
    Can we move?
    INT. SIMULATION GROUNDS - COMMAND ROOM - NIGHT
    Michael is sitting by the control console, bored, flipping a
    laser pen with one hand. The monitors are exactly like the
    ones from the APC (Armored Personnel Carriers). Beside him
    are several other SQUAD C.O.s coordinating with their
    headsets.
    SQUAD C.O. #1
    Wait for the other squads, Lieutenant.
    MICHAEL
    Guess that's a negative, team. Stick
    with spook-eyes and keep your trackers
    on-line.
    EXT. SIMULATION BUILDING - NIGHT
    MICHAEL
    (voice over, filtered)
    Give them a minute to adapt. We've got
    green troops in this simulation.
    The platoon look at each other.
    JESS
    Man, we ain't got all day.
    SQUAD C.O. #1
    (voice over, filtered)
    Charlie One, Alpha, sit your asses
    tight. You're not the only platoon out
    there.
    BUTCH
    Shit, man.
    He grabs Jess by the collar, turns him so he faces the vid-
    camera on his helm.
    INT. COMMAND MODULE - NIGHT
    Michael looks over at Jess' screen.
    BUTCH
    (voice over, filtered)
    Can he see this, sir?
    Butch waves up a giant middle finger.
    BUTCH
    (voice over, filtered)
    Tell that motherfucker to get bent.
    Jess laughs in the b.g, his screen swings to reveal Pulaski
    and 'COWBOY' STOKES, a country jock.
    PULASKI
    (voice over, filtered)
    Bunch of slack jawed ass bandits around
    here is all I see. Need a couple of
    bughunts to make'em hardasses just like
    me!
    STOKES
    (voice over, filtered)
    A couple? Don't I wish it!
    HERMAN
    (off screen, filtered)
    Keep it down, people.
    Michael grins, glances over at his neighboring fresh-cut
    SQUAD C.O. #2. He's a little guy, and new to the command.
    SQUAD C.O. #2
    Copy that, Alpha One. Ten meters ahead,
    there should be a stairwell to level
    three.
    ALPHA TEAM LEADER
    (beat)
    Uh, that's a negative, sir. We don't see
    it.
    SQUAD C.O. #2
    (nervous)
    Wait a minute...
    He tries looking at the blueprints in several different
    angles, confused.
    SQUAD C.O. #2
    There should be a stairwell there.
    Christ. Wait.
    EXT. SIMULATION BUILDING - NIGHT
    The platoon are arranged in a defensive crouch, all along the
    building wall.
    MICHAEL
    (voice over, filtered)
    Charlie One, Leader, take the entry
    point, and hold position. We'll wait
    there.
    HERMAN
    Check.
    He gives his platoon a hand signal.
    INT. SIMULATION BUILDING - NIGHT
    The entry door SLIDES OPEN to reveal Bueller, carbine raised.
    He motions in the rest of the platoon. They file in two by
    two until everyone is inside.
    HERMAN
    (into mike)
    We're in.
    MICHAEL
    (voice over, filtered)
    Butch, take a team into the rear, set up
    charges up along the backdoor.
    HERMAN
    (chuckles)
    Hey, that's not part of the plan, sir.
    MICHAEL
    (voice over, filtered)
    Forget the plan...at the moment. I'll
    give them two minutes. Have your team
    stand by.
    Butch guides his troops into the darkness. The rest of the
    platoon drops back into a crouch, and relax. Stokes moves up
    along side Brooks.
    STOKES
    Hey, you smell pretty good in this heat.
    She hits him with her elbow, nearly knocking him over. She
    isn't smiling.
    STOKES
    Damn, somebody's in a funk. What's
    wrong, Sammie?
    Brooks is tapping a slender finger against the trigger guard.
    BROOKS
    Lover's stuff.
    STOKES
    You two fighting again?
    BROOKS
    We don't fight.
    STOKES
    Okay. My bad. I'm just worried for
    you, y'hear me? Something is wrong.
    BROOKS
    I know.
    STOKES
    Then talk to Cowboy, Sammie.
    JESUS, a east L.A. streetwise Chicano, rests up against the
    wall with TILLER, the Med-Tech, gentle eyes and manners.
    JESUS
    Hey, Doc. Your kids in town?
    TILLER
    Yeah, wife brought them all to the base.
    As soon as this simulation is over I am
    gone.
    PULASKI
    Me too, brother.
    MICHAEL
    (voice over, filtered)
    Miss your old ladies, marines?
    TILLER
    Amen to that.
    


	6. Part One: Pages 51-60


    JESUS
    (into mike)
    When are you going to get one, LT?
    MICHAEL
    (voice over, filtered)
    Not anytime soon. I have my hands full
    with you little rays of sunshines
    already.
    INT. BACK ENTRY - SIMULATION BUILDING - NIGHT
    Butch leads his group up to the giant steel doors. They
    begin slapping on PLASTIC CHARGES on the lock.
    INT. HERMAN'S POSITION - SIMULATION BUILDING - NIGHT
    Pulaski grins, looks up to Stokes and Brooks. He moves on
    closer till he is a earshot away. Stokes shoots him a
    warning glance.
    PULASKI
    How about you, Corp? Ya gonna tie up
    that dog and get hitched?
    BROOKS
    What dog is that?
    PULASKI
    That dog that ain't down here kickin'
    some ass with the big boys.
    BROOKS
    Oh? Where would they be?
    The platoon HOOTS in response.
    INT. COMMAND MODULE - NIGHT
    Michael shakes his head, pulls the mike closer to him.
    MICHAEL
    All right, the hell with this. One and
    Two, finish the rescue.
    INT. SIMULATION BUILDING - CONTINUOUS
    Herman snaps his finger, alerting the squad.
    MICHAEL
    (voice over, filtered)
    I want to eat, shit and sleep sometime
    in the near future.
    HERMAN
    Yes, sir.
    (to platoon)
    Awright, ladies, you heard the man.
    Let's get this done and fast. Bueller,
    take the point. Brooks, watch our tails.
    (into mike)
    Butch, you copy that?
    BUTCH
    (voice over, filtered)
    All set here.
    HERMAN
    Let's move.
    The marines stand up, start heading down the corridor.
    INT. DARK CORRIDOR - SEALED DOORS - NIGHT
    They reach the doors, the squad splitting to two, flanking
    both sides. Herman touches the control panel, makes a signal
    to Bueller.
    Bueller moves up to the panel. He pulls down the facing,
    starts wiring it up to his ELECTRONIC LOCKPICK.
    A light flashes from RED to GREEN on the lockpick. Bueller
    nods to Herman.
    HERMAN
    I want nice, clean shots.
    INT. COMMAND MODULE - NIGHT
    Squad C.O. #2 looks at the screen, a cross of shock and
    halfway ticked.
    SQUAD C.O. #2
    Wait a second, what the fuck? Whose team
    is that?
    INT. DARK CORRIDOR - DOORS - NIGHT
    Herman signals with his fingers -- three -- two -- one.
    INT. BACK ENTRY - NIGHT
    Butch slaps the explosive TRIGGER between his palm three
    times and --
    INT. P.O.W. ROOM - NIGHT
    Several ENEMY FIGURES in fatigues with carbines surround a
    LONE HOSTAGE sitting in a chair, hands tied behind the back.
    BOOOM! They spin to the noise. A distraction. The door
    leading into the room SLIDE OPEN. Herman's squad rush in,
    firing away. Huge flames leaping from their muzzles. All
    the figures are cut down in a haze of smoke.
    Another figure comes through a side door. Brooks reacts,
    fires. The figure is catapulted back through the door.
    The squad fan out and cover the room. Ad Libs of CHECK!
    Each of the dead figures SHIMMER, then vanish. Holograms.
    Herman grins at the hostage and --
    EXT. SIMULATION GROUNDS - NIGHT
    WHAM! TIGHT ON THE SAME HOSTAGE thrown to the ground. We
    see that it's actually a mannequin slightly blacken from the
    gunsmoke. Michael stares at it, then looks up to his squad.
    HERMAN
    Sir, the hostage has been rescued.
    MICHAEL
    Good work.
    The Squad C.O. #2 storms into the simulation room from the
    doors. Behind him is Colbert.
    SQUAD C.O. #2
    You people are insane! We were to deal
    with the situation with the least
    possible risk hazard to the hostage.
    That means no charging without
    coordinated military assault.
    BUTCH
    Whatever it takes to get the job done,
    sir.
    COLBERT
    They did good. You're dismissed,
    Lieutenant.
    SQUAD C.O. #2
    But sir...
    COLBERT
    You're dismissed, Lieutenant.
    SQUAD C.O. #2
    Thank you, sir.
    The Squad C.O. #2 salutes, and leaves to a wave of
    snickering. Colbert looks back at the squad, motions for
    Bueller to come over.
    BUELLER
    (attention)
    Sir.
    COLBERT
    At ease, Corporal. Where are you from?
    BUELLER
    Sir?
    COLBERT
    I might have skimmed over your profile
    during the transfer, but I haven't seen
    your face yet.
    BUELLER
    I'm from New York, sir.
    COLBERT
    Really. So I take it you're one heck of
    a soldier to join this platoon.
    HERMAN
    He's good, Colonel. Boy fitted right in
    fine.
    COLBERT
    Good. Good for you. I don't mean to
    play twenty questions with you, Corporal.
    You have been reassigned to another
    detail. Report to your new CO, Sergeant
    Wilks, at Bay Five.
    BUELLER
    Understood, sir.
    BROOKS
    Shoot, show a girl a good time for one
    night and you take off?
    Bueller shrugs at the squad.
    COLBERT
    And I've got great news for the rest of
    you.
    INT. REC/LOCKER ROOMS - LATER
    Several MARINES surround a television console, watching
    intently on a news broadcast.
    The platoon file in, passing them by. Jess whacks the butt
    of his rifle against the door to his locker.
    JESS
    Motherfuckah, I'm too short to be dealing
    with this shit.
    BUELLER
    It's politics, man.
    Bueller pulls open his locker nearby, starts cleaning out his
    gear.
    STOKES
    Fuckin' A. Civilization is gone I tell
    you. I told y'all before. The lines of
    demarcation are getting fuzzy. Hell, no
    one knows right from wrong no more.
    BROOKS
    With that brain of yours and that M56,
    you make the Corps most dangerous weapon,
    you know that?
    STOKES
    I'm always shootin' the shit.
    BLAKE, a tough looking amazon of a woman turns to Colbert.
    BLAKE
    What's up with that bullshit, Colonel?
    COLBERT
    You know me, people. We're all just
    grunts in the system. They dish it out,
    we take the beating. That's our job.
    JESUS
    Man, we had some slack coming.
    TEAPE
    Hey, guys. Check this out. We've got
    news from Rigel.
    The squad slowly gather around the television console.
    Someone turns up the volume.
    ANGLE ON TV
    NEWS ANCHOR
    (on console screen)
    Seventeen men and women are reported
    dead, and over one hundred are wounded
    after the attack. Again, for those of
    you who have just joined us, the barracks
    which house the Thirteenth Battalion,
    Second Marine Corps were hit with several
    missiles presumably from the U.P.P.
    The console screen CUTS TO a VIDEO FEED at Rigel Six. People
    are shown running away, some carrying wounded with skin
    charred black from intense fire. The image slews suddenly in
    a WHIP PAN as the cameraman swings it behind him. It
    stabilizes somewhat, zooming in on a building up in flames.
    One of the sides collapse in an avalanche of concrete and
    fire, followed by a huge cloud of smoke surging outwards,
    engulfing the fleeing people.
    TIGHT ON the squad, eyes fixated to the scene. Herman dials
    it down. The news continues to drone.
    HERMAN
    Balls to the wall, marines. We still got
    a job to do.
    COLBERT
    Sergeant's right, people. Get yourselves
    cleaned up. You have 12 hours before we
    jump to Gateway. Use every second.
    BUELLER
    Smoke you later.
    Bueller grabs his duffels and heads on out. The rest of the
    marines head to their lockers. Colbert stops Brooks.
    COLBERT
    Listen.
    Colbert runs the words one more time through his mind.
    COLBERT
    There's a concert tonight for the
    officers. Why don't we go? Maybe we can
    talk about some things over dinner.
    BROOKS
    You serious?
    COLBERT
    Yeah. I want to do something serious
    with you.
    BROOKS
    What's the occasion?
    COLBERT
    Just some things I need to take my mind
    off of. Maybe we can talk about that,
    too.
    BROOKS
    You're on then, stud.
    COLBERT
    All right. I'll pick you up later.
    INT. OUTSIDE INTERVIEW BUBBLE - NIGHT
    A SECURITY GUARD ushers Billie into a large empty chamber.
    The room is dominated by the bubble, a mirrored sphere.
    Billie hesitates by the sight of it, a sense of bad history
    here.
    The guard leads her up the gangway, opens the sliding doors
    for her. Billie takes a deep breath, enters the bubble.
    INT. INTERVIEW BUBBLE
    A colorful mix of faces are seated at a round table. Six
    PEOPLE: Dr. Jerrin. Dr. Hannah, A LEGAL REP, MEDICAL CENTER
    ADMINISTRATOR, some PSYCHOLIGIST.
    DR. JERRIN
    Have a seat, Billie.
    Billie takes a seat.
    DR. JERRIN
    We seem to have come to an impasse in
    your treatment.
    BILLIE
    Really?
    DR. JERRIN
    Dr. Hannah has suggested a new treatment
    which while fairly...
    (beat)
    ...dramatic, offers a chance for us to
    stop these nocturnal episodes of yours.
    BILLIE
    Really?
    DR. HANNAH
    Yes, we've had some success in penal
    colony treatments with it. It is a
    fairly simple procedure, an operation
    using a line surgical laser that
    eliminates predefined areas of certain
    cerebral complexes.
    Billie drops her composure, nearly leaps at the fat blonde.
    BILLIE
    (freaked)
    What?! You're talking about burning out
    my brain!
    DR. JERRIN
    Now, Billie...
    BILLIE
    Fuck that! I won't!
    DR. HANNAH
    It's not really up to you, dear. The
    state has certain prerogatives here. You
    are a danger to yourself and others with
    your delusions.
    BILLIE
    They aren't delusions!
    DR. JERRIN
    Billie, just try to calm down. I know
    this is very difficult for you.
    Billie tries to compose herself.
    BILLIE
    Wilks was here. The men who visited me
    today. Colbert and Wilks. Find them and
    ask them. They'll tell you what
    happened.
    The men and women look at each other, some smiling, as if
    amused. Completely shallow and Billie knows it. Her tone
    becomes exceedingly pleading.
    BILLIE
    Call them! Why won't you listen?! Call
    them!
    They members turn to each other.
    PSYCHOLOGIST
    (nods)
    Acute schizo-affective disorder to the
    extreme.
    ADMINISTRATOR
    Her current prognosis?
    DR. HANNAH
    Triazolam, Haliperidol, Chlorpromazine,
    double maintenance dose.
    ADMINISTRATOR
    (shaking his head)
    Costly and expensive.
    PSYCHOLOGIST
    And time consuming.
    ADMINISTRATOR
    We have other patients with families and
    friends who need help right away.
    DR. HANNAH
    I understand. We could have very well
    helped another patient who could have
    been a bit more compliable.
    Billie's had it and SHE LUNGES ACROSS THE TABLE AT HANNAH.
    BILLIE
    You bitch!
    Orderlies and attendants quickly dive for her, pulling her
    back. Billie is writhing and twisting, screaming
    obscenities. Even despite their apparent size, Billie is
    really making a fight out of it. Hannah meanwhile, unmoved,
    cement faced.
    DR. HANNAH
    See? Habituation. We've rotated her
    through everything we have and she's used
    to them all. She shouldn't be able to do
    much more than walk. Look at her.
    LEGAL REP
    This is clearly the best option for my
    client. Send me the forms and we will
    proceed immediately.
    DR. JERRIN
    I suppose you're right.
    BILLIE
    Dr. Jerrin! No! Please!
    Hannah's heard enough.
    DR. HANNAH
    Orderlies, please take her back.
    Billie suddenly JERKS FREE from the orderlies! She quickly
    makes for the door. Just a few steps away but a hand grabs
    her roughly by the shoulder, spins her about.
    BILLIE'S POV: One peeved looking THICK ORDERLY. A SHOCK
    TASER comes right down on Billie's head, she SCREAMS, and
    suddenly the world --
    CUTS TO BLACK:
    INT. HANGAR #10 - NIGHT
    SOUNDS OF cleats against the steel floor. Massive floods on
    towers of raw scaffolding backlight almost an entire division
    of MARINES marching into stacks of transport ships. We also
    see Armored Personnel Carriers being loaded, drop-ships
    pulled up under the belly of other ships. Preparations for
    war. Something CLANGS and BOOMS overhead, metal thunder.
    TIGHT ON THE MARCHING MARINES, as they look up. A sudden
    WIND rushes across the deck, then dies. RUMBLE overhead as a
    monstrous hanger door rolls slowly open, revealing the late
    sky.
    ANGLE ON COLBERT watching his marines file into the ships.
    Back a ways, Wilks has spotted Colbert. He heads right for him.
    WILKS
    Colonel, sir.
    Colbert turns. Wilks stands in attention, salutes, hands him
    an electronic padd. Colbert reads it over, cocks an eyebrow.
    COLBERT
    There's time for this?
    WILKS
    I'll make the time.
    COLBERT
    Where are you going to take her?
    WILKS
    Anywhere's better than that rathole
    they've put her in. She doesn't deserve
    any of that.
    (off Colbert's nod)
    I just need a few things from the Armory,
    and a good reason to leave base.
    Colbert thinks a moment, types in a few commands.
    COLBERT
    I heard Stephens ordered you to off-load
    my plasma weapons.
    WILKS
    We're pretty much fucked as it is with or
    without.
    Colbert hands him back the padd.
    COLBERT
    All right, you have an errand. Don't be
    picky with your piece and no fireworks.
    Your ship leaves in three hours. Get out
    of here and be careful.
    Wilks salutes.
    WILKS
    Outstanding, sir.
    INT. ER - PSYCHIATRIC WARD - NIGHT
    A small clean room, surrounded by medical machinery and
    monitors. Standing out is an ominous looking large device
    hanging from the ceiling with several sharp protrusions and
    lots of blinking lights.
    The door slides open to reveal two orderlies dragging a
    heavily sedated Billie. They haul her up to a chair,
    spreading each limb to a STEEL CLAMP. ORDERLY #2 hits a few
    buttons from the control panel on the side, the clamps slap
    shut SECURING in place.
    THICK ORDERLY
    Crazy bitch, you see how she tried to
    bite me?
    Orderly #2 chuckles, continues to type away at the panel.
    Thick Orderly gets bold, leans over Billie, gets close to her
    face.
    TIGHT ON BILLIE, she starts to move, moaning.
    THICK ORDERLY
    You're just dying to get whatever meat in
    your mouth, don't you?
    He looks back, runs his hand over her body, between her legs.
    Rubs up and down the material. Malicious. His breathing,
    ragged. Billie starts to whimper from the assault.
    THICK ORDERLY
    I bet you do.
    ORDERLY #2
    What the heck are you doing, man?
    THICK ORDERLY
    What does it look like? She won't
    remember a thing after they're done with
    her.
    ORDERLY #2
    Hey, I'm all for a little pussy myself,
    but if the doctor catches your ass,
    you're fucked.
    THICK ORDERLY smirks, squeezes one of Billie's breasts under
    her shirt.
    The door slides open again. Dr. Hannah appears now in a
    white smock, snapping on gloves.
    DR. HANNAH
    Let's begin.
    Thick Orderly triggers the CEILING DEVICE to lower into
    position. He aligns it, grabs an ugly half sphere helm, and
    places it over Billie's head. He secures it with a steel
    brace to her chin, locking her head. She won't be able to
    move.
    DR. HANNAH
    Billie? Can you hear me?
    Another moan from her lips. More like a whisper. Dr. Hannah
    nods, satisfied. Thick Orderly wheels around a console which
    is displaying a green-yellow map scan of Billie's BRAIN
    PATTERNS.
    


	7. Part One: Pages 61-70


    DR. HANNAH
    (indicating spot)
    We're going to make an incision here.
    You might feel a tingling sensation but
    it will be brief.
    The device above Billie starts to WHINE.
    EXT. PSYCHIATRIC WARD - NIGHT
    A SIGN on a chain link fence topped with concertina wire
    reads: ST. JAMES' STATE HOSPITAL. Below that: Because we
    care. Beyond sits the imposing several story high psych
    ward. Our first glimpse from the outside. Institutional
    brick. Barred windows. Looks about as inviting as some
    military school.
    A bored looking guard at post notices the fatigue green
    Humvee pulling up to the SECURITY BOOTH, and approaches.
    BOOTH GUARD
    Don't you folks from MI have a war to
    fight way out there?
    WILKS
    We have other orders.
    BOOTH GUARD
    Yeah, right.
    The guard raises the barricade, waves him in.
    CUT TO:
    THE PARKING LOT
    Wilks pulls in next to the other vehicles. He gets out,
    walks toward the main entrance.
    ANGLE ON THE DOORS, as Wilks approaches. He sees the Admit
    Pad, a keypad, on the deceivingly complex doors. Wilks
    checks around the frame.
    WILKS POV: No cams. He looks back at the lot. No one.
    Smiling, he pulls out from his pockets a hand held device and
    holds it near the keypad. Thumbs a few buttons, it cycles
    through several numbers then brings up a code. Wilks punches
    them in, it chimes, the doors slide open.
    INT. PSYCHIATRIC WARD - ENTRANCE/HALLWAY - NIGHT
    A long dark hallway ends at a reception area, which is
    closed, and a NIGHT RECEIVING DESK, which is basically just a
    station nearby where they can buzz you in through a heavy
    door. A NIGHT GUARDSMAN is behind the desk, watching a porno
    projection of two blondes locked in a 69 from his hand held
    vid viewer. He looks up at the sound of footsteps, sees the
    marine walking towards him, and turns off his unit.
    NIGHT GUARD
    Can I help you?
    WILKS
    Yeah, I'm supposed to see Dr. Jerrin.
    The guard looks down at his console, goes through his
    routine.
    NIGHT GUARD
    And you are?
    WILKS
    Emile Antoon Khadaji.
    Some typing.
    NIGHT GUARD
    I don't see your name here, Monsieur
    Khadaji.
    WILKS
    I'm a last minute deal. Somebody
    canceled.
    NIGHT GUARD
    I'll have to check with the doctor.
    Wilks realizes he's in some hole, glances left and right for
    other guards, moves his arm slowly to his right hip.
    WILKS
    Fine. Check.
    ANGLE ON WILKS as the guard turns to his com unit. He's
    about to make the call when Wilks suddenly pulls out a STUN
    PISTOL from his side. A bright red dot from the laser sight
    dances over the guard to his forehead.
    NIGHT GUARD
    Hey!
    FLASH. THWIP. Wilks calmly shoots an electrical burst from
    the pistol to the guard. The guard convulses, and passes
    out. Wilks quickly hops around, snatches the bar code ID
    from his uniform, arranges the guard so it appears he passed
    out asleep. He clips the tag to his shirt pocket, triggers
    the door to open.
    EXT. PSYCHIATRIC WARD ENTRANCE - NIGHT
    Same booth. Same bored guard glancing up to see yet another
    Humvee gliding up. It's Massey this time, pulling to a stop,
    showing the guard his card ID.
    BOOTH GUARD
    We're slowly filing in tonight, aren't
    we?
    Massey nods, his eyes narrow and suspicious. The guard
    raises the barricade for Massey to go through.
    INT. SECURITY CHECKPOINT - NIGHT
    A small room before a short SALLY-PORT corridor designed to
    prevent violent inmates from making a run for it. There are
    doors at each end. The first one is barred like a jail-cell
    door, and the second is a steel fire door. The attendants
    have a video monitor with which they can see the corridor on
    the other side of the doors.
    The two bored attendants barely notice Wilks as he
    approaches. He looks briefly at a chart next to the door,
    seeing BILLIE scribbled in next to Emergency Room #9.
    IN THE ISOLATION WARD, Wilks passes a nurses' station which
    looks like a cage, walled in by heavy metal mesh. The
    attendant there glances up once, sees Wilks and his tag, and
    goes back to his own work.
    INT. PSYCHIATRIC WARD - ENTRANCE/HALLWAY - NIGHT
    At the receptionist desk, Massey looks over and sees the
    sleeping guard. He walks around, nudges him, the guard falls
    over. Beat. Massey, peeved, pulls out his heavy handgun,
    checks it, tucks it back in and heads deeper inside.
    INT. ER - NIGHT
    The WHINING noise becomes truly terrifying.
    DR. HANNAH
    It'll start any minute, Billie, and your
    nightmares will be over.
    The door slides open, and Wilks storms in. THWIP! THWIP!
    Firing in succession with incredible rapidity. The two
    orderlies drop to the floor.
    DR. HANNAH
    This is a restricted area!
    WILKS
    Turn it off!
    Dr. Hannah hesitates. Wilks brings up the gun to her
    forehead.
    WILKS
    Turn that shit off now!
    Dr. Hannah quickly turns off the machine. The sounds dying
    down.
    WILKS
    Thank you.
    He smashes the butt of his gun to her skull, knocking her
    out.
    Wilks spins to Billie, pulling out an injector from his
    pocket and shoots her in the neck with the liquid.
    We see the change, Billie moans, stirs to life. Wilks looks
    over the console controlling her restraints, and unlocks each
    of them. Wilks heads back over, shakes her. She's still
    incoherent, soft and weak.
    WILKS
    C'mon, Billie. Rise'n shine.
    BILLIE
    Wilks?
    WILKS
    Yep. Pack your socks, kid. We're going
    for a ride.
    The medication finally takes full effect. Her eyes spring
    open.
    BILLIE
    Wilks! How did you..? Why..?
    WILKS
    We'll talk later.
    Wilks helps Billie to her feet. She's still weak, knees
    wobbling, going through aftershocks.
    WILKS (CONT'D)
    Right now we need to hustle along. I
    might have made a couple of enemies on
    the way in here and I don't think we have
    time to discuss it. You ready?
    Billie shakes it off, pulls up her pants a bit.
    BILLIE
    Ready.
    WILKS
    What, you don't want to fix your hair or
    spray make-up on or something?
    BILLIE
    I'd crawl over broken glass to get out of
    here.
    Wilks checks out the door, peeks left and right.
    WILKS
    Okay. Clear.
    Billie follows him out.
    INT. INNER HALLWAYS - NIGHT
    Wilks and Billie move down the dark corridor in quick pace.
    It's quiet, not a life stirring but them. Then, they hear
    footsteps coming from down the hall. Wilks quietly but
    quickly slides his card in the pad next to him, unlocks the
    cell, shoves Billie in with him and locks it.
    INT. CELL ROOM - NIGHT
    We glimpse Massey passing the cell door window. They wait
    until the footsteps fade away. Billie breathes a sigh of
    relief, looks over and sees Sasha restrained to a bio-bed
    just like her moments ago. She watches her with a bird-like
    stare. She's paralyzed.
    Billie brings a finger to her lips. Whispers a silent good
    bye. They both exit.
    INT. INNER HALLWAYS - NIGHT
    Billie and Wilks reach the end of the corridor, the
    elevator's atrium. Almost home free. One of the tube's
    doors chime, and they part revealing the two ORDERLIES and
    two GUARDS all armed with shock tasers. They SEE Wilks and
    Billie, alarmed. Wilks doesn't hesitate. He whips out his
    stun pistol, unloads a charge to each one.
    Billie watches the little red dot bounce across the heads of
    the guards and orderlies. THWIP. THWIP. THWIP. Three of
    them drop to the floor unconscious, weapons CLATTERING on the
    hard floor. The final target, PHIZZZ, empty gun.
    WILKS
    Stay behind me.
    Wilks pockets his pistol, squares off with the fourth and
    final orderly, as Billie takes a few steps back. The orderly
    adopts some form of martial arts stance, and lunges at Wilks
    with his taser like a sword.
    Wilks sidesteps to his left, slaps his out stretched arm with
    his right, punches with his left in the orderly's ribs. The
    orderly grunting from the blow, adjusts, and tries to swing
    backward but Wilks ducks, barely missing the taser. He kicks
    hard into the orderly's kneecaps, hears something crack. The
    orderly screams, leg bending from the blow and quickly
    silenced from a well placed kick to the head. Beat.
    WILKS
    Place is gonna be crawling with guards
    now. Which way to the stairs?
    BILLIE
    That way!
    Billie pops a glance at the guards and orderlies on the
    floor, leads Wilks down the corridor. They arrive at the
    door. He pulls it open, and they run into Dr. Jerrin!
    He looks at the two, shocked. Wilks clenches his fist, ready
    to move but Billie steps in front of him.
    BILLIE
    Doctor...
    Dr. Jerrin shakes his head, motions them to come into the
    stairwell quickly. Wilks pushes Billie inside.
    CUT TO:
    INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT
    The door closes, and they can HEAR footsteps rush by.
    DR. JERRIN
    Take Billie to the second floor. There
    is an emergency exit. The guards will
    have covered all main entrances by the
    time you get there.
    Billie hugs Dr. Jerrin. A moment where he finally feels like
    a real doctor. He pulls away from her.
    DR. JERRIN
    You'd better go. Hurry.
    Wilks takes Billie, and they LEAVE. Off the Doctor's look.
    INT. ER - NIGHT
    Massey steps inside, draws out his handgun, only to find the
    three unconscious bodies on the floor.
    INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT
    Wilks and Billie sprint down the stairwell. Giant numbers
    enumerating floors as they move downward. The stop on the
    second, Wilks pulls the door open, checks outside.
    INT. SECOND FLOOR - SECURITY STATION - NIGHT
    The attendants at the security checkpoint are looking busy.
    One of them is watching a program currently in progress on an
    overhead television console.
    SALVAJE (V.O.)
    This is Salvaje, bringing the word of the
    True Messiah. Listen to me, my fellow
    seekers.
    ATTENDANT #1
    Hey come check this freak show out.
    Attendant #2 turns away from his security cam station, we SEE
    Wilks and Billie walk under the cameras from behind him.
    SALVAJE (V.O.) I know that which you lack. I know of
    your incompleteness. I have the answer.
    The True Messiah can make you into a Holy
    Receptacle. For it is in bearing the
    sons and daughters of the Messiah that
    you will find your salvation.
    ATTENDANT #2
    Man, well we sure got plenty of room
    here.
    He turns back to his station, looks up at the monitor as
    someone enters the corridor. They see Wilks escorting
    Billie, passing their station looking normal.
    WILKS
    How's it going?
    The attendant nods back. Then suddenly, a button goes off
    flashing at his console pulling his attention away.
    Someone's hit the panic button and now the ALARM sounds.
    Wilks takes Billie by the arm.
    WILKS
    (hush)
    Move. That'll be the alarm.
    INT. ER - NIGHT
    The alarm shrieks through the hallway, alerting Massey. He
    spins, heads out of the door.
    INT. SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT
    Wilks and Billie sprint down to the end of the corridor. On
    the wall, an emergency escape window is there sealed tight
    with a keypad next to it. Billie looks distraught.
    BILLIE
    Oh, great. That thing is coded.
    WILKS
    Not a worry.
    Wilks fumbles in his pockets, pulls out an aerosol.
    WILKS (CONT'D)
    I have here a nifty little master key,
    courtesy of the Colonial Marine Corps
    armory.
    Billie watches as Wilks begins to spray a generous layer of
    the gel all along the borders of the window, and then a big
    glop of it on the keypad. The stuff begins to harden as soon
    as it comes on contact.
    ATTENDANT #1 (O.S.)
    Hey, you two!
    Billie looks back, SEES the attendant waving at them, not at
    all thrilled, advancing.
    BILLIE
    Uh, Wilks?
    Wilks continues to work, pulls out two fork like pins, plugs
    it into the hardening gel on both window and the keypad.
    ATTENDANT #1 (O.S.)
    Get away from that window! I've called
    Security!
    He squeezes each pin once, they begin to vibrate, HUMMING,
    sending waves. The effects going through the gel all around,
    changing color to bright blue, neon almost. The metal
    underneath begins to SIZZLE, eaten away as if it were under
    the direct shot of a hot intense laser.
    WILKS
    (turning away)
    Don't look at it. It'll burn your eyes.
    ATTENDANT #1
    What are you two doing?!
    BILLIE
    Wilks!
    Wilks pulls his pistol from under his jacket, aims it at the
    advancing attendant. He stops, hands up in surrender.
    ATTENDANT #1
    Hey, hey, take it easy! Don't shoot!
    Wilks takes a step closer to the attendant, turns his face
    slightly to give him a good view of his acid burn scars. He
    sneers. The attendant pales.
    WILKS
    Get the hell out of here.
    He needn't had to be told twice. He spins and runs back the
    other way down the corridor.
    WILKS
    Amazing what even an empty gun can do,
    ain't it?
    Wilks puts his weapon away, turns back to the window,
    surveying the results --
    WILKS POV: What's left of the lock is now dripping into a
    puddle of plastic slag on the floor.
    EXT. PSYCHIATRIC WARD - NIGHT
    THE EXIT WINDOW is kicked clear off its hinges. It's sent
    spiraling end over end down to the ground.
    INT. SECOND FLOOR - NIGHT
    Wilks leans out of the opening, looking down. It's a good
    forty or so feet from the concrete ground level. Shaking his
    head, he leans back.
    WILKS
    Too high to jump, we'd break a ankle.
    Billie nods, watches Wilks pull out another small wonder from
    under his jacket. He starts to unfold a pair of handles from
    the CONTRAPTION, a rounded square of black plastic the size
    of a big man's hand. Wilks points the device at the
    windowsill and taps a control -- PLOOP.
    A thin line of white sprays out from the nozzle on the end
    and hit the sill. He touches another control and loops of
    the line paid out. A sort of webbing. Wilks motions Billie
    to come closer.
    WILKS
    Okay, it's set. Climb onto my back.
    Billie does a little hop onto his back and clutches him.
    Wilks adjusts with the additional weight, winks back at her.
    WILKS
    Just like old times, right?
    (off Billie's tiny grin)
    Yeah, let's get out of this hole.
    Wilks steps up onto the sill, turns to face the hallway.
    EXT. PSYCHIATRIC WARD - NIGHT
    TIGHT ON WILKS, his feet near the bottom edge of the sill.
    WILKS
    Hang on, I'm going to lean back.
    Billie nods nervously, eyes closed, and clutches him tighter
    with her arms and legs. Wilks gets into position
    effortlessly as if she were weightless.
    WILKS
    Spider gear. Don't worry, this line'll
    support ten men without breaking.
    Holding them with his arms outstretched, muscles taut, he
    begins walking backward down the wall.
    BILLIE
    (quiet)
    Wilks?
    WILKS
    Yeah?
    BILLIE
    Thanks for coming to get me.
    WILKS
    No sweat, kid.
    Billie biting her lower lip, grips Wilks tighter in an
    emotional hug.
    EXT. PSYCHIATRIC WARD - GROUND FLOOR
    The two hop down onto the ground. Billie slides off Wilks.
    BILLIE
    Where are we going to go?
    WILKS
    Does it matter?
    Billie shakes her head, keeps a lookout as Wilks hits another
    button to recoil the string back into its device.
    WILKS
    C'mon. We've got a flight to catch.
    Check-in's about an hour.
    Wilks leads Billie around the corner of the hospital, near
    the parking lot. They duck behind a car just as a BLUR OF
    GUARDS rush past them to the from entrance.
    WILKS
    (whispering)
    Keep low.
    The two of them start moving in a crouch, ducking behind the
    other vehicles, creeping towards Wilks' Humvee.
    CUT TO THE ENTRANCE
    The booth guard and some uniform are in mid conversation.
    BOOTH GUARD
    All we had were a couple of folks from MI
    Earlier...
    Suddenly, tires SCREECH, engines RUMBLE in the b.g. They spin
    to see --
    THEIR POV: Wilks' Humvee barreling down on them from the lot.
    CUT TO:
    INSIDE WILK'S HUMVEE. Wilks sees the barricade, downshifts
    hard.
    BILLIE
    But that thing is made of...
    WILKS
    Yeah, I know. Here's key number two.
    Wilks fumbles for something in a bag next to him.
    CUT BACK TO the security booth again. Both the uniform and
    guard reach for their side arms when, CLANK! CLANK!
    An armed M40 grenade gets tossed over from the open canopy of
    the jeep and hops a few times near the booth! Both of them
    stare wide-eyed.
    BOOTH GUARD
    Sweet Moses!
    They jump out of the way just as the grenade goes off. BOOM!
    The explosion takes out the supports of the barricade,
    blasting it into smoke and splinters while the steel bar
    CLANGS on the gravel. The Humvee dashes through the debris,
    and speeds off into the city.
    EXT. SALVAJE'S SHACK - EVENING
    Same unrelieved, unrelenting, dreary-ass rain. We SEE
    Salvaje on an upper floor, perched by the window.
    TIGHT ON SALVAJE, staring out into the rain with scrutinizing
    eyes like a gargoyle. He sees Pindar now, waving
    frantically, slogging through the rain towards the door.
    Salvaje turns back inside.
    CUT TO:
    Bottom floor. The steel door. Salvaje opens it, and he is
    greeted by the lively and animated tech.
    PINDAR
    Where have you been, I've been paging you
    for over a fucking hour!
    


	8. Part One: Pages 71-80


    SALVAJE
    I had no need for your services at the
    time. I'll pay you when I need you,
    don't worry.
    PINDAR
    My time is exactly what I am worried
    about, amigo.
    (off Salvaje's look)
    Like, where I am going to be spending it
    if I get caught doing this? You are
    getting kind of famous, you know. The G-
    boys have a monitoring team to find you.
    Something is going on, something more
    than the usual sweep for somebody doing
    pirate 'casts. What are you into, here,
    Salvaje?
    Salvaje studies Pindar, steps to the side.
    SALVAJE
    Come inside, you'll catch your death out
    in the rain.
    Pindar gives him a look, a kind of where he knows he's got to
    be somewhere insane. He steps passed him inside.
    INT. SALVAJE'S SHACK - EVENING
    Both Salvaje and Pindar are walking through a hallway,
    heading towards the communications room we've seen them in
    before.
    SALVAJE
    They fear me because of my message.
    PINDAR
    Don't treat me like some pendejo,
    Salvaje. There are a hundred like you
    breaking into the nets every day. They
    preach about everything from pure water
    to group sex being God. The TCC doesn't
    work up a sweat trying to run them down,
    but somehow you rate a full-scale
    investigation. They want you bad, and
    they are giving me some heat as well.
    How did they know?
    SALVAJE
    What have they learned?
    PINDAR
    Nothing. Not yet. But I'm getting hairs
    sticking out the back of my neck and in
    old Méjico that's like a bad sign. What
    am I getting myself into here? Why are
    you so important?
    SALVAJE
    I told you, my message.
    PINDAR
    Yeah? Your message is drawing attention
    to me. Mal calor. Bad heat.
    INT. COMM-ROOM - EVENING
    Salvaje and Pindar walk in. The consoles seemed to be
    powered on, screens in static, equipment HUMMING in the b.g.
    A camera is set in the center on top of a three-leg stand,
    hooked up with a jumper for a live feed broadcast. Pindar
    starts to fume.
    PINDAR
    You were broadcasting?!
    SALVAJE
    My message must be heard.
    Salvaje watches calmly as Pindar darts between consoles,
    typing away at a few keyboards. He's looking for something,
    then there it is.
    PINDAR
    You were using my access codes. How?!
    Pindar goes back to the screen, hits a few more commands.
    PINDAR
    Madre de dios. They weren't even
    covered, no file overlay, no protection.
    You have any idea what will happen to us?
    They will bury us so far deep nobody will
    find us again. They will find me!
    SALVAJE
    Time is almost upon us. It was a
    necessity.
    PINDAR
    Necessity bullshit. That's it. I am
    through. I want out. This is going way
    too deep for me. You can keep your
    money.
    Pindar starts to leave but Salvaje suddenly goes into a rage.
    He grabs the tech roughly by the shoulders of his jacket,
    thrusts him so hard against the wall he nearly flew off his
    two feet getting there. Unnatural strength for someone his
    size.
    PINDAR
    Fuck!
    Salvaje rushes up onto him, pins him to the wall. The gleam
    of his madness shone from his eyes like diamonds in the night
    sky.
    SALVAJE
    You listen to me! You are nothing, you
    are an insect! The Messiah is coming! I
    am the tool of the incarnate god and I
    will not be slowed by such as you. If
    you need something to fear, then fear me,
    technician. I have eyes and ears
    everywhere, and if you fail to serve me,
    there will be no hole deep enough to hide
    you from my retribution, do you
    understand?
    PINDAR
    You're crazy, man!
    SALVAJE
    If you do anything to thwart my
    broadcasts I will see to it that you die
    in a way more horrible than anything you
    can possibly imagine. Do you understand?
    Pindar shakes all over, eyes wide as a field.
    PINDAR
    Yeah, yeah, okay, okay! It's just
    getting dangerous, that's all I wanted to
    say. It'll cost...
    SALVAJE
    I care not what it costs! The message
    must continue. My organization is
    formed, I have hundreds, who do my biding
    without knowing who I am, but I need the
    message to go forth! The time is almost
    upon us!
    Salvaje stares right into Pindar's eyes.
    INT. HANGAR #10 - CMS BENEDICT - NIGHT
    Wilks is wheeling a set of cryo-tubes up into the loading
    bay. The opaque canopies on them are all closed. He sees a
    marine handling guard duty at the ramp.
    TROOPER GUARD
    Hey, Sarge. You cuttin' it kinda thin,
    ain'tcha? It's only five minutes to log-on
    deadline.
    WILKS
    Live fast, die young...
    TROOPER GUARD
    (chuckles)
    ...and leave a good-looking corpse.
    WILKS
    Yeah. Right.
    INT. SLEEP CHAMBER - NIGHT
    Wilks jockies the cryo-tubes into the sleep compartment. He
    touches a button on one. The lid fanned up, revealing Billie
    inside.
    WILKS
    Okay, kid, here's what's happening.
    Government thinks there's a planet full
    of the monsters so we're going there.
    You and I, we know how these things are,
    but nobody believes us. Probably won't
    be coming back.
    Billie's face goes instant white like a full moon.
    WILKS
    I can still off-load, you want.
    A beat between them. We see a decision then wash over
    Billie. Like deciding whether to die by injection or
    electrocution.
    BILLIE
    (shaking head)
    I've lived with them most of my life.
    Might as well face them and get it over
    with, one way or the other.
    WILKS
    That's about how I see it. All right.
    I'm going to run the lines into this unit
    and put you to sleep. See you on the
    other side.
    BILLIE
    Yeah.
    Wilks smiles at her, the most assuring he's given. He starts
    to close the lid.
    BILLIE
    Thanks, Wilks.
    WILKS
    Don't dream, kid.
    BILLIE
    You, too.
    The lid closes over Billie. Wilks starts to go to work on
    the tube, hitting a few commands, attaching cryo lines and
    cables to the power supply. He triggers the unit and sets a
    timer.
    WILKS
    Sleep well, kid.
    Wilks turns away and on that we --
    DISSOLVE TO DEEP SPACE
    Staring into the starry field b.g. Feels like a planetarium.
    Then something moves into screen, overhead, moving away from
    us. It's an ALIEN, sideview, curled into a fetallike ball.
    The MUSIC of Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries going full blast.
    SALVAJE (V.O.)
    Humans suffer from self-centered notions
    as to the nature of life.
    The Alien slowly uncurls, twisting in space.
    SALVAJE
    (voice over, cont'd)
    Humans assume that alien life forms
    should conform to standards that match
    our own, including logic and morality.
    The Alien is uncurled in its full glory now. Slowly it
    rotates to face the camera.
    SALVAJE
    (voice over, cont'd)
    Even among humans, morality is ignored
    when expedient. Do the men and women of
    Rigel Six differ from these aliens? Do
    the men and women who order these same
    men and women from their offices differ
    from these aliens? Why should we expect
    more from an alien life form than we
    demand from ourselves?
    The Alien stretches out it arms and legs and tail so that it
    becomes a freakish parody of the man's-reach-should-equal-
    his-height illustration by Da Vinci. We PUSH IN SLOWLY,
    watching the Alien expand to fill the screen.
    ORONA (O.S.)
    Turn it off.
    CUT TO:
    Orona staring slightly peeved at the console. Beside him are
    several other men, in impeccable pearl-grey suits, T.I.A.
    AGENTS like him, and another in a lab coat.
    ORONA
    As soon as we find this son of a bitch, I
    want him buried so deep even the Chinese
    can't dig him out.
    The other suits nod.
    ORONA
    Show me this guy.
    One of the men triggers a control on the side. The others
    all TURN TO FACE A WALL as it slowly fades into a clear see-
    through plexi-glass wall. In the other room is Pindar
    wriggling under metallic restraints on a table.
    GREY SUIT #1
    Pindar Estuego. We picked him up at Lima
    International, Peru, attempting to leave
    the country. One of our comm-agents
    tracked down a broadcast of his, and
    traced it there.
    ORONA
    And Morse?
    GREY SUIT #2
    We've located his hideout, but it looks
    like he left in hurry.
    Orona sneers, all signs of the friendly and calm agent from
    the Wilks' meeting completely washed away.
    ORONA
    Begin with the interrogation. Find out
    what you can, whatever it takes.
    Grey Suit #1 nods, looks back at one of the other men and
    motions for him to go.
    INT. INTERROGATION ROOM - NIGHT
    The only door into the hallow room slides open with a hum.
    Two men enter, both in high-strength bodysuits of grey. One
    of them is a kindly looking man who could be somebody's
    grandfather. He smiles down at Pindar.
    ANGLE ON PINDAR, who looks like he had just wet his pants.
    GRANDFATHER
    Son, we have some questions we need
    answers to, if you don't mind.
    The other agent, a lean, hatchet-faced young man with
    chocolate-colored skin, gets close.
    HATCHET-FACE
    You understand that we have full
    authority to question you in any manner
    in which we choose?
    An apprehensive beat.
    PINDAR
    Si. Yes. I understand.
    GRANDFATHER
    Good.
    Grandfather produces a small plastic case and shows it to
    Pindar. His eyes go instantly wide in fear. Grandfather
    places the case on a nearby tray table, opens it. He removes
    a pressure syringe and a small vial of reddish fluid. He
    loads the vial into the injector.
    PINDAR
    Wha-there is no need for that! I will
    answer your questions! I will tell you
    everything!
    Grandfather places a gentle hand over Pindar's forehead, like
    any good grandfather would do to comfort young children.
    GRANDFATHER
    I know you will, son.
    He leans over Pindar, presses the injector against the big
    artery in the tech's neck.
    TIGHT ON THE INJECTOR, as Grandfather triggers the firing
    stud. A small -- POP -- and the liquid from the vial
    vanishes.
    Hatchet-Face checks his chronometer, enumerates with each
    nod.
    HATCHET-FACE
    Three. Four. Five. That's it.
    TIGHT ON PINDAR
    We see him visibly relax as the serum takes hold of his
    entire nervous system. It's like going through ecstasy. A
    wide smile stretches from one cheek to the next.
    GRANDFATHER
    Feels good, doesn't it?
    (off Pindar's nod)
    That's great. Mind if we ask you a few
    questions?
    CUT TO:
    INT. BACK ROOM - NIGHT
    Orona watches quietly as the interrogation begins, eyes
    narrowing.
    GRANDFATHER (O.S.)
    Tell us about this Salvaje you mentioned.
    PINDAR (O.S.)
    Sure. Sure!
    CUT TO:
    INT. INTERROGATION ROOM - NIGHT
    As before.
    PINDAR
    After the last time, when Salvaje
    threatened me, I decided I had to find
    out more about what he was into.
    GRANDFATHER
    Yes, tell us about that.
    Grandfather checks the holo-wall screen. The grey-suits
    watching back.
    PINDAR
    I did some checking and discovered that
    he had someone from the inside to help
    him. I figured he had help 'cause he has
    some major network and software no one
    but military has.
    TIGHT ON ORONA, turning to his group.
    ORONA
    Who?
    GREY-SUIT #1
    We don't know. This is the first time
    we're hearing about it.
    ORONA
    Get on it.
    BACK IN THE INTERROGATION ROOM,
    PINDAR (CONT'D)
    So I went to his place when he was out
    and broke in. His security was not so
    good as he thought. I got inside. Ran a
    download program and copied all his
    files. Took them home; he would never
    know I had been there.
    GRANDFATHER
    That's very clever of you.
    PINDAR
    Well, I read some of them and I learned
    that Salvaje had worked for Bionational
    before he started his crusade. Some kind
    of low-level administrator but get
    this...
    GRANDFATHER
    Tell us.
    PINDAR
    (chuckles)
    Get this. Salvaje used to be this ex-con
    and did a lot of time in some deep space
    prison but I guess he cleaned his act or
    something. Good life then suddenly, up
    and quit one day. I don't know why. He
    was making good money.
    (beat)
    I found out where his messiah came from
    when I ran an AV he had buried in a
    mathematical program.
    Grandfather leans down close to Pindar's face.
    GRANDFATHER
    Tell us about the messiah. Tell us what
    you saw.
    CUT TO:
    INT. BACK ROOM - NIGHT
    Grey Suit #1 triggers a control and the incoming voices from
    the interrogation room lowers to a whisper.
    GREY SUIT #1
    You'll want to see this while Pindar
    talks. This is the AV file he spoke of
    on a disc he was carrying at the
    spaceport.
    Grey Suit walks over to the consoles, touches some controls.
    Orona joins his side as does the rest of the group, standing
    behind them. The screen goes from static then to a grainy
    picture of the Bionational logo. Overstamping the logo is a
    flaming red sign that said:
    Authorized Personnel, REQUIRED CLEARANCE TS1, Bionational
    Internal AV 42255-1, composite.
    GREY SUIT #1
    It's a bad induction copy of a
    Bionational topsecret AV, internal view
    only. Morse must have stolen it before
    he left, or had somebody steal it for
    him. That might be the help. Whoever
    had done it in any case, did it sloppy.
    They lost part of the visual and all of
    the audio track, so there's no sound.
    THEIR POV: The image blurs, then RESOLVES INTO a view of a
    clean room. A man is on a table, bucking against a field.
    Suddenly, a spot on his solar plexus tears open and what
    appears to be an eel's head the size of a man's fist emerges,
    flashing bloody needle-sharp teeth. Everyone reacts,
    startled and shocked.
    ORONA
    Jesus...
    GREY SUIT #1
    (re:console)
    Apparently, he couldn't get all of the
    recordings, so this only hits the high
    points.
    ORONA'S POV: He watches the screen now showing three men in
    cleansuits standing over the thing. The creature shoots out
    of the dead man on the table like a dart, latches on to one
    of the men. We can SEE it ripping into the suit.
    GREY SUIT #1
    The first part of the recording showed
    what appears to be the birth.
    Console screen CUTS TO ANOTHER VIEW, zoomed in on the eel as
    it disappears into the cleansuit. The pickup PANS BACK to
    show the terrified face of the man. No sound. It's obvious
    he is screaming.
    GREY SUIT #3
    Look at him. It's like that thing is
    eating him alive.
    TIGHT ON ORONA, fascinated now, while the others watching in
    disgust and horror.
    On the screen, the suited man ran. Then it begins switching
    to different views from different cameras.
    INTERCUTS
    -- One showing the other two cleansuited men giving chase.
    -- One showing security guards appearing at a corner.
    GREY SUIT #1 (O.S.)
    They couldn't let it get away, and so...
    -- We catch the running man's head explode, the cleansuit's
    helmet balloon out, split, spraying gore. The image holds at
    this point, an angle on the body on the floor.
    GREY SUIT #1
    And now, we switch to...
    His fingers touch more controls. The screen switches to
    another view. A huge room. Armored walls. Think some
    containment vessel for controlled fusion experiments.
    Suspended with cables is a naked man's body. A corpse with
    most of the head gone.
    A telemetry is running up and down the screen on the right.
    A chaotic flow of symbols and alien letters.
    GREY SUIT #1
    They left the thing inside the guy they'd
    shot. He was a doctor, by the way. Had
    been part of the research team for these
    things before he became baby food.
    Orona points to the scrolling telemetry.
    ORONA
    What is this?
    Grey Suit brings up another screen. Data scrolling up and
    down, symbols exactly like the ones seen before. He taps at
    the screen.
    GREY SUIT #1
    This was taken from the Nostromo's flight
    recorder. It's a distress signal from
    the alien craft at LV-426. We were able
    to identify character matches between
    them. In all likelihood the same
    language.
    ORONA
    Go on.
    Grey Suit #1 touches the control pad. The screen goes to
    static then cuts to another.
    GREY SUIT #1
    Here's what it looks like about halfway
    grown.
    Orona stares. The Alien now about the size of a normal
    adult, with a different cranium.
    ORONA
    (stupefied)
    Halfway grown?
    Grey Suit gives him a sort of nervous look.
    GREY SUIT #1
    Yeah, and this is Salvaje's messiah in
    its adult stage, fully grown.
    


	9. Part One: Pages 81-90


    Grey Suit touches his control pad again. The screen fades
    into a new one. This time the monster is larger, shaped
    slightly different, with a massive cranial plate that
    branched antler like. There is an extra set of smaller arms
    coming from the chest area. The QUEEN ALIEN.
    There is a scale built into the edge of the screen showing
    meters by dozens. The walls of the room now covered with
    convoluted loops of shining black material, and the floor
    dotted with garbage-can sized eggs.
    ORONA
    My God. Is that the queen?
    GREY SUIT #1
    We think so.
    The Queen Alien looks up into the direction of the
    observation camera, bares giant teeth. The image fades and
    goes blank.
    GREY SUIT #1
    That's all there is of the stolen
    recording we were able to recover.
    ORONA
    Please tell me this is all down in Peru.
    GREY SUIT #1
    No. This was taken from their deep space
    Bionational Facility.
    ORONA
    Excellent. Bionational just bought
    themselves murder one along with global
    conspiracy. I want this cleared up,
    cleaned up, and looking good for display.
    We must have those specimens. We'll
    seize this facility in the interests of
    Terran Security.
    The group all nods in agreement.
    GREY SUIT #1
    There is something else I want to show
    you while we're all here. A potential
    hazardous situation.
    ORONA
    What do you mean?
    Grey Suit #2 hands a disc over to Grey Suit #1. He gestures
    it to Orona, then pops it into the console.
    GREY SUIT #1
    These were taken from various medical
    institutions around Earth, mostly from
    Psych division. Medicomp has loaded up
    hundreds of these cases. Watch.
    THEIR POV: The screen fades into a meeting in progress with a
    young Hispanic woman, obviously been missing a few nights
    sleep with the puffy eyes, and a doctor. We see her
    fidgeting in her seat continuously, busy crumpling and
    folding a tissue she has in her hands.
    DOCTOR #1 (V.O.)
    Maria, what else do you remember about
    the dream?
    MARIA (V.O.)
    So all of a sudden there is this loud
    noise, like something hits the roof of
    the subway. Then a scraping sound.
    DOCTOR #1 (V.O.)
    Scraping?
    Maria plays with her tissue in a more frenetic pace.
    MARIA (V.O.)
    Yeah, like fingernails on metal.
    (bites on a fingernail)
    Anyway, then the train stops and um, I
    realize that something is trying to get
    in. Something bad. So I say to my
    mother, Mama, come on, we have to get out
    of here! But Mama, she just sits there
    and smiles at me, you know?
    DOCTOR #1 (V.O.)
    It's all right, Maria. You're safe here.
    Tell us what happened next.
    MARIA (V.O.)
    Um, then, um, all of sudden the roof
    tears open like it's paper and these
    things claw right into the car. Like
    nothing I've ever seen, they are bestia,
    come se dice? Monsters, with teeth and
    big heads like bananas. I reach for Mama
    to pull her with me, only she turns into
    one of the things, her face stretches!
    It is too horrible!
    The screen goes to static. Then a new one, another
    conference, between two men now. Another doctor with
    patient. They are speaking French over the b.g.
    GREY SUIT #1
    Old Paris, France. The conversation was
    translated.
    FRENCHMAN (V.O.)
    Well, the screen looked distorted,
    twisted, somehow.
    (beat)
    Then something came out of the set, but
    it stretched the usual stopping place of
    the holograms. Like a fist shoving
    through a sheet of flexiplast. And then
    the thing, some kind of monster, it
    grabbed me. I couldn't move a muscle!
    It opened its mouth, had teeth as long as
    my fingers, and inside was another mouth,
    smaller, and it opened! And...
    Cuts to static. Fade into another conference.
    GREY SUIT #1
    Dallas, USA.
    RED NECK (V.O.)
    ...then all of a sudden, her chest tore
    open and this thing looked like some
    giant dick with a lot of teeth comes out,
    spewing blood and all and flew, fucking
    flew out of her right at my face!
    Orona pushes the button to stop. The tape cuts to static
    again.
    GREY SUIT #1
    The former Slavic Provinces, Brazil, the
    Eastern Coalition. The list goes on.
    ORONA
    What have the patients in common?
    The watcher in the lab coat picks up an electronic board,
    reads off it.
    LAB AGENT
    High ratings on the Cryer Scale and at
    least double digits on the Emerson
    Emphatic.
    ORONA
    And the descriptions are identical?
    GREY SUIT #1
    Virtually identical.
    ORONA
    Etiology?
    LAB AGENT
    Unknown. Best guess the medicomp can
    come up with is some kind of telepathic
    or emphatic projection. Perhaps it is
    how the things communicate among
    themselves and perhaps they are trying to
    communicate with us.
    Orona stares down at the screen, daunted.
    ORONA
    Our data so far do not indicate that the
    aliens are particularly intelligent, per
    se. Could this be Morse's doing? Could
    he have provoked this wave of spontaneous
    connections?
    GREY SUIT #1
    Possibly, but we need to also take into
    careful consideration another scenario.
    ORONA
    Here on Earth? That's impossible. There
    aren't any aliens here.
    The group stares at each other, no clue.
    ORONA
    Could Morse have in his possession an
    alien? Could Bionational have brought an
    alien here?
    More stares and some shrugs.
    ORONA
    Find him and I want you to dig up the
    files from LV-426 and LV-230. Track down
    this inside help of his. I want his ass
    in court.
    The group all nods, scatter. Grey Suit #1 waits when they
    clear some, leans close to Orona.
    GREY SUIT #1
    Wilks reported in from the Base. The
    unit is assembled, and checks out okay.
    ORONA
    Good. We're moving right along.
    GREY SUIT #1
    And we think Jason Colbert is aware of
    the situation.
    (off Orona's look)
    I think it would only be a matter of time
    before he finds out. We don't know of
    his intentions. I advise immediate
    action needed.
    INT. OFFICERS' LOUNGE - NIGHT
    CHAMBER MUSIC and the ambiance of wealth soak the room as we
    watch officers and their families wine and dine.
    COLBERT (O.S.)
    So, about this I and I we have together.
    We CUT TO Colbert, seated in officer's white, watching
    Brooks, who's exchanged her combat harness with a backless
    silk dress, stab a cube of steak with a fork. Once drop-dead
    gorgeous marine now just drop-dead gorgeous. She pops the
    meat in her mouth, savors the taste. Her chewing alone
    provides wanton imagination.
    COLBERT
    Jess must be feeding you good.
    He watches her cut another piece.
    COLBERT
    Want some of mine?
    BROOKS
    You try six weeks of his food.
    COLBERT
    He can do wonders with a real kitchen.
    Remember Laurelis Prime?
    BROOKS
    Mmmm...I remember two bunnies in heat.
    Colbert nods appreciatively. Brooks picks up a white card
    from her side.
    BROOKS
    Concert later, then what? Get funky
    with the monkey?
    COLBERT
    It's on our to-do list.
    A stiff looking, fu-manchu maitre d' shows up, interrupting.
    HEAD WAITER
    Forgive my intrusion. Colonel Colbert?
    COLBERT
    Yes?
    HEAD WAITER
    There is a man who wishes to speak with
    you. He claims to be TIA.
    Colbert rolls it in his mind.
    COLBERT
    Thank you.
    HEAD WAITER
    We have a room arranged for your
    conference, sir.
    Colbert tosses down in his napkin, and gets up.
    COLBERT
    I'll be back.
    Brooks nods, gets busy again with her food. Colbert follows
    the man off. Immediately, another waiter shows up with a
    silver tray of extremely enticing chocolate mousse, offers it
    to her.
    SERVING WAITER
    Madam? Some dessert?
    Off Brooks' wide eyes --
    INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT
    The maitre d' leads Colbert to a door. TWO TIA AGENTS
    complete with sunglasses even in the night, stand guard.
    They also have on small Secret Service earphones in one ear,
    the cord coiling back into their shirt collars.
    One of them pushes open the door.
    INT. SIDE ROOM - NIGHT
    The TIA Agent enters, behind him Colbert.
    TIA AGENT #1
    Colonel Colbert is here, sir.
    ORONA
    Yes, show him in.
    Colbert enters the room, the door clicking shut behind him.
    ORONA
    Please have a seat, Colonel.
    COLBERT
    Thank you.
    ORONA
    Would you care for a beverage before we
    begin?
    COLBERT
    No, thank you. I have a dinner to attend
    to.
    ORONA
    Ah yes. That's right.
    Orona grins. For a moment, he takes stock of Colbert, sizing
    him up like a fighter would do from across the ring.
    COLBERT
    What can I do for you, Mr..?
    ORONA
    Oh, pardon my manners. I am Special
    Agent Waidslaw Orona.
    COLBERT
    (nodding)
    What can I do for you then, Mr. Orona.
    ORONA
    Well, let's talk about changing
    realities, Colonel.
    Orona sits across from Colbert at the desk.
    COLBERT
    You mean Rigel Six.
    ORONA
    Closer to home actually. Colonel, we are
    both officers of a certain law, we both
    share an oath to protect our Colonial
    citizens. At times it is necessary to
    adapt to new procedures in order to
    secure that oath. Don't you agree?
    COLBERT
    Whatever means within conduct structured
    by our Constitution. That I agree.
    More stock-taking. Orona drops his amiable face.
    ORONA
    Colonel, I know you are aware of Wilks'
    transfer from your command. Further, I
    know you are aware of the nature of the
    transfer. I can understand a certain
    anxiety.
    Colbert loses it. It's come down to this point now of no
    return.
    COLBERT
    A certain anxiety? You're bringing a
    species that has killed hundreds and
    thousands of our people.
    ORONA
    In uncontrolled circumstances.
    Colbert stares at him if he were insane.
    COLBERT
    I bet our colonists would love to hear
    that.
    ORONA
    If you would try to understand from our
    position, Colonel.
    COLBERT
    I recognize your position, Mr. Orona.
    The same position Weyland-Yutani tried
    taking when they sent us to our deaths.
    How much longer are you going to keep
    running around under the President until
    he hears about the colonies?
    ORONA
    We are acting on orders from the
    President.
    COLBERT
    How could he disregard the Commerce Code
    and let a dangerous organism into our
    space?
    ORONA
    For the same reasons why we need to study
    new weaponry advances and develop
    countermeasures. We have rumors that the
    U.P.P. have already gained possession of
    the alien.
    Colbert considers the ramifications of that. He gets up from
    his chair, moving to a window. He doesn't let Orona see in
    fact he's horrified.
    ORONA
    Now you can see our position.
    COLBERT
    You are certain they have an alien?
    ORONA
    We're not taking any chances here,
    Colonel. We have the facilities to
    handle the matter and the top personnel.
    COLBERT
    You have no idea what they are capable of
    doing until you've seen them with your
    own eyes.
    He turns back to Orona.
    COLBERT (CONT'D)
    They can't be controlled. They can't be
    contained. They always find a way, and
    when they do, they breed, and every
    living thing on this planet dies.
    A slight flicker of doubt on Orona. Maybe he's thinking
    twice? He turns in his chair.
    ORONA
    Thank you for sharing your concerns. I
    will keep that in mind. Have a good
    evening and enjoy your dinner.
    COLBERT
    You are going to go through with this.
    ORONA
    Colonel, let me make this clear. You
    will not interfere with this project.
    Furthermore, you will remain here on
    Earth where you will continue duty and
    you are forbidden to leave until further
    noted.
    COLBERT
    Is that an order?
    ORONA
    It will be. Any action taken to disrupt
    this project will warrant an immediate
    federal arrest, after your court martial.
    I hope you realize the consequences of
    your choice affects others more so than
    yourself.
    COLBERT
    I don't appreciate ultimatums, Mr. Orona.
    ORONA
    See it how you want. Good evening.
    Colbert and Orona stare each other down. Colbert leaves.
    INT. OFFICERS' LOUNGE - NIGHT
    Colbert slides into his seat in front of Brooks. He picks up
    his glass, drains it down.
    BROOKS
    What was all that about?
    COLBERT
    Just a reminder from home.
    We check Brooks, working on her third cup of the mousse.
    Back on Colbert, looking into his glass, mind making
    decisions. The haunting strings of Ase's Death in the b.g.
    grow in a gradual crescendo as we --
    CUT TO:
    INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT
    We're in what seems to be a replica of the Garnier Opera in
    Paris. Dim lights. The orchestra playing the MUSIC in full.
    We PAN AROUND the opera hall, over the audience, to a couple
    seated high up, Colbert and Brooks.
    As Ase's Death rises in momentum, so does Colbert's emotions.
    Colbert whispers something into Brooks' ear, and leaves.
    INT. OUTSIDE CONCERT HALL - BALCONY - NIGHT
    Nightscape: The Washington Monument standing tall and proud
    in the night, illuminated by the lights.
    PAN BACK to Colbert watching impassive. Someone else joins
    his side. Barely a glimpse. He glances over, surprised to
    see --
    COLBERT
    Massey.
    MASSEY
    Been a long time, Colbert.
    (staring at the brass)
    Colonel Colbert, now.
    They stare at each other. Colbert unsure how to react.
    COLBERT
    You sent me the message.
    (off Massey's nod)
    What happened to you?
    Massey turns back to the view, a twisted sneer forming on his
    face.
    MASSEY
    Running...mostly, around the world. You
    know about Wilks, and Billie. Some of us
    didn't make it far like you have.
    Colbert looks out with him.
    COLBERT
    I didn't make it far, Massey.
    MASSEY
    The dreams haunt me, too. They didn't
    forget about us. They told us what we
    wanted to hear, but for years they've
    been doing the opposite.
    COLBERT
    How did you get all that info?
    A wry smile across Massey's face now.
    MASSEY
    You think I live a normal life right now?
    I went underground since Rim. You get to
    meet a lot of interesting people there.
    (beat)
    Colbert, we got to stop them.
    COLBERT
    (shakes head)
    The government's been keeping close tabs
    on me.
    MASSEY
    I know. They have people on you 24-7.
    He nods down below to a particular spot. Colbert looks.
    DOWN ON THE STREET LEVEL
    Focusing on a black four-door SEDAN, there are two FIGURES
    inside. At the angle, their faces concealed but the suits
    give them away.
    COLBERT (O.S.)
    TIA?
    BACK UP TOP,
    MASSEY
    (nodding)
    We both know, you'll be a wanted man if
    you go but I will take the risks with
    you. I've got nothing else to lose.
    Colbert moves away, wrestling with heart and mind.
    MASSEY
    Think about it. I'll be right in front
    of the theatre after the play.
    With that, he leaves Colbert alone on the balcony.
    INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT
    Colbert appears, sits down next to Brooks. She grabs his
    hand, and smiles warmly. They both watch the rest of the
    play. Colbert won't remember any of it.
    EXT. CONCERT HALL - ENTRANCE - NIGHT
    The crowd slowly dispersing from the theatre with Playbills
    in hand. A respectable bunch, all uniforms of the highest
    levels from all military branches.
    A line of limousines, and other VEHICLES parked in front, gas
    running. Among them is Massey's car.
    


	10. Part One: Pages 91-98


    Colbert leads out Brooks, and spots Massey. He gives him a
    knowing nod.
    INT. COLBERT'S HUMVEE - NIGHT
    Colbert drives, popping glances up at the rear-view mirror.
    BROOKS
    Well, shit-a-doodle-doo. We've got
    little more than two hours left.
    COLBERT
    Yeah...not a lot of time.
    BROOKS
    Wanna start now?
    Brooks slips a hand between Colbert's thighs. Colbert takes
    her hand firmly.
    COLBERT
    No. Not tonight.
    BROOKS
    What?
    COLBERT
    We're not going back to my place. I'm
    going to drop you off at the base.
    BROOKS
    (hard)
    What?
    COLBERT
    Listen, it's happening again. The
    Colonial government has found more of the
    aliens.
    BROOKS
    The ones from Rim? But I thought you
    said you killed them all?
    COLBERT
    We didn't.
    (beat)
    All my life I've tried fighting off the
    nightmares, to forget what happened. I
    can't any longer. I'm going to put an
    end to this permanently. You know where
    are people went?
    BROOKS
    Yeah, but...
    Colbert triggers his phone console.
    COLBERT
    Call them.
    INT. JOY CLUB - NIGHT
    Opposite of what we saw at the opera. Bodies writhe to the
    heavy beat of techno-music. Mix jungle and underground. A
    throng of MARINES with gorgeous WOMEN wearing nothing but
    thong bikinis.
    Pulaski emerges from the crowd with a wild brunette over his
    shoulder, slapping her jiggling ass.
    Two girls doing the bump and grind with Jesus. He kneels
    down, caressing their flatboard stomachs, teases their
    bellybuttons with his tongue.
    Herman, Butch, Jess, Teape and Stokes are at the bar. A hot
    honey BARTENDER serving drinks there. Another girl enticing
    Teape to come out to the floor.
    TEAPE
    I really shouldn't...
    JESS
    Shee-it, what are you? A little girl?
    HERMAN
    Get in there, Private!
    Herman gives Teape a good hearty shove off the bar.
    PARTY GRUNT #1
    You guys got a real tight crew?
    STOKES
    Real tight.
    PARTY GRUNT #2
    You lucky. My squad freaked after our CO
    told us we're shipping out. They all
    pissed in their pants and I been smelling
    that since.
    Beer jugs CLANG. The bartender leans over to the men.
    CLUB BARTENDER
    Which one of you big boys is Sergeant
    Herman?
    STOKES
    It ain't the skinny black man for sure.
    JESS
    Suck air.
    Herman wags a finger. The bartender hands him the receiver.
    He covers a ear and listens in. Garbled voice.
    INT. TILLER'S QUARTERS - NIGHT
    Tiller is sitting with his CHILDREN, four of them in all. He
    adjust his son's collar. A woman appears at the doorway,
    his WIFE.
    MRS. TILLER
    Come on, honey. We're going to be late.
    TILLER
    Be a sec. I need my marines looking
    sharp.
    His pager goes off. He grudgingly snaps it off his belt,
    looks.
    MRS. TILLER
    Business?
    TILLER
    Yeah.
    MRS. TILLER
    (claps hand)
    Okay, kids. You know the drill.
    Tiller kisses each of his children on the forehead as they
    walk by. Then comes the eldest, the daughter, EVELYN, who
    brushes him off.
    EVELYN
    Daddy, please. The make-up.
    She leaves. Tiller gets up and stands with his wife.
    TILLER
    When did that happen?
    MRS. TILLER
    Last year. I think you were storming
    Grenada at the time.
    TILLER
    I'm sorry.
    MRS. TILLER
    (a little bit of guilt)
    We're used to it.
    CUT TO:
    INT./EXT. BLACK SEDAN - NIGHT
    The car pulls to a stop.
    Inside, the two TIA Agents watch in the distant Colbert
    leaving his Humvee, and heading up the stairs to his
    apartment.
    One of the agents dials in a number on the phone console.
    The line connects. The face of Orona appears.
    ORONA
    Yes?
    TIA AGENT #1
    Colbert dropped off his date, and then he
    went home. We're at his place now.
    ORONA
    Keep an eye on him.
    TIA AGENT #1
    Yes, sir.
    The image fades to a blip. Both Agents lean back against
    their chairs, prepping for the night. One of them pulls out
    a sandwich, the other grabbing a cup of coffee.
    A car pulls up next to them. The doors opens and out steps
    Massey. He taps the window.
    TIA AGENT #2
    Get rid of him.
    The other Agent waves him away. Massey taps the window
    again.
    TIA AGENT #1
    Christ.
    The window rolls down. Massey takes a PISTOL from beneath
    his coat. No hesitation. Shoots each one. Colbert rushes
    up to Massey. He looks at the two Agents.
    MASSEY
    Tranq darts. They'll be out cold for the
    night. We have a transport?
    COLBERT
    I made a few calls. I don't know what's
    available at the base until we get there.
    MASSEY
    We have a way in?
    COLBERT
    I can get us in.
    MASSEY
    You ready?
    COLBERT
    No. Considering what we're about to do.
    MASSEY
    Considering what we've been through,
    maybe we should have died on Rim.
    Colbert pauses, regards him for a moment.
    COLBERT
    Yeah. Right. We'd better get going.
    INT. OUTSIDE/AROUND HANGAR #10 - NIGHT
    Tiller moves down the metallic hallway, hands in pockets. He
    hears the CLICK-CLACK of high heels, looks up to see Brooks
    now in a long overcoat over her dress.
    TILLER
    We're rolling?
    She shrugs. The bay doors SLIDE OPEN, and they ENTER into --
    INSIDE HANGAR #10
    The rest of the platoon are there clustered around a dormant
    APC. Stokes takes Brooks, twirls her once. Activity still
    going strong in the b.g.
    STOKES
    Whoo-whee! Damn if I weren't married.
    BROOKS
    I heard that before.
    A gigantic HEAVY LOADER on treads rumbles into view. On it's
    lift is a steel container easily ten feet high and six feet
    deep. Something huge inside.
    ANGLE OVER THE CONTAINER as the lift lowers. Pistons WHINE.
    We see Lara behind the wheel.
    JESUS
    You droppin' with us, Kat?
    Lara winks, drives the tractor up into the ramp of the
    awaiting transport, the CMS DAEDALUS. Herman waves everyone
    up the ramp.
    HERMAN
    Awright, cut it out, people. I want
    everyone up in that ship, now.
    The platoon fall out into the ship.
    WHIP PAN TO:
    TWO MEN working on a service loader. Their heads are tilted
    slightly down so their hat bills block their faces from view.
    Both wearing engineer overalls.
    GROUND LEADER
    Take that to Bay Six.
    The lead man nods, drives the loader away quickly. After
    some distance, the driver suddenly changes direction and
    heads for the Daedalus.
    INT. CMS DAEDALUS - NIGHT
    The door to the lockers slide open, and in steps the two men
    from the loader. The lead man removes his cap.
    Michael and everyone are in attendance.
    MICHAEL
    Colonel?
    BUTCH
    Tench-hut! Officer on deck!
    The troops snap to.
    COLBERT
    At ease.
    (to platoon)
    All right, everyone. Listen up. We
    don't have a lot of time here, so I'll
    make this quick and precise. Exactly
    three hours before this time, a Colonial
    vessel was dispatched with the intention
    of retrieving a bio-weapon to return to
    Earth. A weapon which poses a tremendous
    threat to the welfare of every living
    creature in this system. Now some of you
    know I was part of a botched mission
    thirteen years ago. Well we are in the
    same situation now. And I find it
    unacceptable. I will use whatever means
    necessary to stop this.
    Colbert walks among his troop.
    COLBERT (CONT'D)
    I will need help so I am asking each of
    you. I will let you know, whether you
    come with or not, this mission continues.
    As of tomorrow I will no longer be
    Colonel of the Colonial Marine Corps.
    So, if you do choose to come with me...
    (beat)
    ...in return, I can grant each of you six
    month leave of absence without notice
    effective as of today.
    The platoon all stare at each other, already considering.
    COLBERT
    More details will be given once we're on
    our way.
    STOKES
    Six months, Colonel? No questions asked?
    COLBERT
    You people won't hear anything.
    LARA
    You're throwing away your career, Jason?
    COLBERT
    You wanted an explanation, Katherine.
    Here it is.
    (looks at his CO's)
    Sergeants?
    HERMAN
    Hey, your problem is my problem, too,
    Colonel. It ain't fly-fishing season
    anyhow.
    TILLER (O.S.)
    I'm in.
    CUT TO TILLER, standing up, throwing in his chip.
    TILLER (CONT'D)
    For six months. The war could be over by
    then. I'll go.
    PULASKI
    You got kids, brother. Stay. Colonel,
    you're giving him the leave if he
    staying, right?
    TILLER
    If you go, I go.
    COLBERT
    This mission will be dangerous. I can't
    stress that enough. But you people are
    the only ones I can trust. I know you,
    and you know me.
    STOKES
    It's important to you, right, Colonel? I
    mean this is big. Big or else you
    wouldn't call us?
    COLBERT
    Yeah, Cowboy. It's pretty big.
    A grin spreads from cheek to cheek.
    STOKES
    Fuck it. I'm in then, Colonel.
    TEAPE
    This is some deep shit.
    JESS
    You're in? You are in, kid.
    PULASKI
    He's in.
    TEAPE
    Yeah, guess I'm in.
    Colbert looks at Brooks.
    BROOKS
    Whatever, Jason. I roll with you.
    COLBERT
    No, this isn't an order, Sammie. You
    come with me at your choice.
    BROOKS
    Then I am going.
    Adlibs 'Hell yeah' from the platoon.
    COLBERT
    All right, let's get moving. Semper fi.
    Michael watches them leave, moves to Colbert.
    MICHAEL
    That big?
    COLBERT
    How's the ship, Michael?
    MICHAEL
    (shrugging)
    Pretty solid cruiser. One of the latest
    ships to be integrated with the stealth
    technology and the ATDMC intercept. We
    can probably catch that ship through
    their navigations.
    COLBERT
    Good.
    MICHAEL
    Wasn't easy for Lara to secure several
    hundred tons of nuclear weapons like you
    wanted.
    COLBERT
    That's why I have you great kids.
    MICHAEL
    Yeah right. Just drop Hell into my life
    anytime.
    They do a gentle fist dap and smile warmly at each other.
    COLBERT
    Let's get this ship into space.
    And they leave.
    FADE TO BLACK.
    TO BE CONTINUED...
    


	11. Part Two: Pages 1-11


    ALIEN HOMEWORLD
    by
    Jack Bullions
    FADE IN:
    In the field of stars --
    EXT. DEEP SPACE/CMS BENEDICT
    Metallic spires, followed by a cliff of dull steel.
    The BENEDICT slides past above us. Suddenly, it is eclipsed
    by a hulking shadow. Huge. The DAEDALUS appears INTO FRAME,
    matching course and speed.
    INT. CMS BENEDICT - BRIDGE
    DOLLY AMONG the instruments until we settle on a monitor. An
    alarm SOUNDS. It comes to life, scrolling data.
    TROOP TRANSPORT BENEDICT
    CMS 2237-ZULU
    UPDATE VESSEL DETECTION #RF3245
    STATUS RED
    CAUSE: UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS
    Bland feminine voice of the ship's computer, as alarms
    continue.
    COMPUTER
    Attention. Systems security breach.
    Emergency override...
    The voice stops. Someone's pulled her plug. The monitor
    suddenly blacks out and again we fall into darkness.
    INT. CMS BENEDICT - HYPERSLEEP VAULT
    TRACKING down a chilly aisle of capsules.
    TIGHT ON THE VAULT DOOR
    A metallic KLONK and the door rumbles open. Backlit FIGURES
    ENTER into the room. CLOSER, through the smoke, we see
    Colbert behind the faceplate, and behind him, his marines.
    He approaches one of the CAPSULES, wipes away the frosted
    layer on the canopy.
    ANGLE OVER as the shoulder lights from his suit illuminate
    Wilks inside.
    The marines wheel in a MECHANIZED GURNEY for a hypersleep
    capsule. They get to work. Cords HISS as they unplug, and
    reattach. They move very fast, clockwork.
    LARA
    (voice over, filtered)
    Uh, sir. I'm showing a plus one here on
    their roster.
    Colbert turns and heads to the console. He dabbles with the
    controls. Data scrolls down.
    LARA
    (filtered)
    Looks like Row C. Stephens must be one
    incompetent SOB.
    Colbert reads the info, turns away.
    OUTSIDE THE VAULT,
    Michael, suited, looks over a monitor in his palm. Pulaski
    and Jess move their gurney out.
    MICHAEL
    (filtered)
    Seven minutes, Colonel.
    BACK INSIDE,
    Colbert stops before another capsule. He slowly clears away
    the frost to reveal Billie, in peaceful comatose.
    COLBERT
    (filtered)
    Damn it, Wilks.
    LARA
    (filtered)
    Sir?
    COLBERT
    (filtered)
    Herman, send in another unit. I need you
    to bring out one more.
    HERMAN
    (voice over, filtered)
    Yes, sir.
    They wheel in the second gurney. Brooks glances down at the
    registry console. The name Corporal MITCHELL BUELLER and his
    ID stand out.
    She strolls up close to his capsule, stares at it
    thoughtfully. Humming to herself, she drums her fingers
    against the canopy.
    STOKES
    (filtered)
    What are we gonna do about Snow White
    here? After we're done they gonna still
    give him trigger time at Rigel. That
    ain't right.
    BROOKS
    (shrugging, into mike)
    What about Bueller, Colonel? He should
    get the deal.
    COLBERT
    (voice over, filtered)
    Who?
    BROOKS
    (filtered)
    Corporal Bueller?
    ANGLE ON COLBERT as he looks at Massey, who shrugs.
    COLBERT
    (filtered)
    Bring him.
    The marines quickly finish up. They slide out the remaining
    gurneys and in minutes, the door slides back shut and again,
    silence.
    EXT. DEEP SPACE
    The two ships disengage. The Daedalus accelerates off, and
    dwindles into the stars.
    EXT. GATEWAY STATION
    A city of towers in space connected with a network of
    metallic conduits. The science vessel with it's special
    cargo slides into view, maneuvers through the traffic of
    other spacecraft.
    INT. ARRIVAL TERMINAL - GATEWAY STATION
    Passengers are arriving en masse from a giant conduit. In
    addition to the OFFICIALS checking identifications, there are
    SECURITY watching attentively.
    The passengers are a diverse group -- businessmen, station
    employees, etc. There is also a large tour group consisting
    of a predominately family-oriented, and determinedly jolly
    crowd. They are being marshaled by a female tour organizer.
    Red Silks and Green Silks emerge from behind the crowd, go
    around the lengthy line. Red checks his watch, noting time.
    GREEN SILKS
    Do we really need to make an appearance?
    RED SILKS
    Scared, my friend?
    GREEN SILKS
    Maybe a little. Let's just say I find,
    that an alien and myself in the same
    space on the same station, nerve-racking.
    RED SILKS
    You worry too much.
    GREEN SILKS
    So why are we here?
    RED SILKS
    Well, I was going to wait till they make
    the presentation and have them explain
    it.
    A guard acknowledges who they are, waves them by the booth.
    RED SILKS (CONT'D)
    They've discovered something marvelous.
    Take a look at this.
    Red pulls out a small PADD from his pocket, and hands it to
    him. Green looks down.
    HIS POV: It looks like some modern art collage of the
    alphabet connected by lines and squiggles on the screen.
    GREEN SILKS
    Yeah, it's the genetic code for those
    things.
    RED SILKS
    (wags a finger)
    Ah, but watch.
    TIGHT on the padd again. This time the code forms into a
    curious curlicue.
    GREEN SILKS
    A crossword puzzle?
    RED SILKS
    The whole DNA is a puzzle, but what this
    is, they tell me, is a recessive gene.
    GREEN SILKS
    Which translates to what?
    Red stops his friend.
    RED SILKS
    A few years ago we were unable to
    understand their makeup enough to clone
    because we have nothing here to relate
    to. Now that we have understood a piece
    of this puzzle...
    GREEN SILKS
    Synthesis is possible?
    RED SILKS
    Now you're thinking what I'm thinking.
    In a year perhaps it may be possible.
    GREEN SILKS
    Incredible.
    Red nods, and they head into the more quieter sections of
    Gateway. The restrictive areas.
    GREEN SILKS
    Still no word from Homeworld?
    RED SILKS
    We're looking at a total loss there.
    Massey will take care of it.
    CUT BACK TO:
    THE SECURITY CHECKPOINT
    One of the officials runs his laser pen over an I.D. barcode
    on the passport. The photo is showing the face of Salvaje.
    CHECKPOINT OFFICIAL
    How long do you plan to stay on Gateway,
    Mr. Conrad?
    He looks up to SALVAJE.
    SALVAJE
    I will not be long.
    CHECKPOINT OFFICIAL
    Which is how long?
    SALVAJE
    Two days.
    The official nods, does some typing, and hands back the
    passport.
    CHECKPOINT OFFICIAL
    Welcome to Gateway Station, Mr. Conrad.
    Enjoy your stay.
    SALVAJE
    Yes. Thank you.
    Salvaje takes in the sight, and moves off.
    EXT. DEEP SPACE - EXTERNAL SHOTS OF THE CMS DAEDALUS
    DISSOLVE TO:
    INT. HYPERSLEEP VAULT
    Darkness. Then a bank of indicators lights up. A console
    runs down the namelist of the crew, a la Aliens.
    TIGHT ON BILLIE'S CAPSULE as trickles of water run down the
    frosted canopy.
    More lights come up. The hiss of hydraulics as they lift a
    grid of equipment from the row of horizontal hypersleep
    capsules.
    DISSOLVE TO:
    LATER, the vault is lit up with all lids raised and locked.
    Bodies stir. Colbert sits up, massaging feeling back into
    his body. Beside him, down the row, his marines, TWENTY-ONE
    people in all, wearing skivvies and dog tags.
    GROANS echo across the chamber. Brooks moans, turns in her
    capsule. Stokes sawing wood under a hat. Pulaski rises up.
    PULASKI
    Goddamn freezer.
    JESUS
    With all that shit you put in your body,
    amazing you even fit in there.
    Billie sits up, rubs her arm briskly. She scans the row of
    capsules before her. Wilks comes to nearby.
    PULASKI (O.S.)
    You listening in on some pillow talk
    between me and your mother?
    One by one the marines stagger out from their freezers.
    Brooks swings her legs over, winks at a confused Bueller.
    COLBERT
    Feeling good?
    She snorts pleasantly, grins. Herman, up and ready, moves
    down the line with his D.I. Smokey Bear's hat, looking over
    his troops.
    JESS
    (bumping into Stokes)
    Shit man, I got needles in my head.
    HERMAN
    What a bunch of little daisies. Assholes
    and elbows, people!
    One by one, they shuffle by Colbert, pumped and eager now.
    BILLIE (O.S.)
    Cobey?
    The squad stop and snicker. A quick glare from Colbert.
    Mouths snap shut and they move on. Colbert moves to Wilks
    and Billie.
    WILKS
    Colonel, I think you owe us an
    explanation.
    Massey appears behind Colbert.
    WILKS
    Holy dogshit, Massey. Where did you dig
    him up?
    COLBERT
    He's part of the reason I'm here.
    WILKS
    And the other part?
    COLBERT
    I'm not letting Earth suffer the same
    fate we've had. If they want an alien,
    they have us to deal with.
    Billie is ecstatic, jumps to Colbert, wrapping him with her
    arms.
    INT. WEIGHT GYM
    Right next to the hypersleep vault.
    Several of the platoon are doing reps on various equipment
    and racks. Pushing iron and pumping muscles, getting the
    blood flowing again. Lara hops up and grabs a bar, working
    pull-ups.
    HERMAN
    They keeping you busy behind the desk,
    ma'am?
    LARA
    That they did.
    She gasps, adjusts to slower breathing as the workout
    intensifies.
    BROOKS
    Been pushing too many pens, Kitty. You
    look soft.
    LARA
    (through teeth)
    Just watch me.
    Butch pumps his fist, approving.
    INT. SHOWER CHAMBER
    Through the swirling steam, marines scrub down from their
    individual shower heads. Pulaski pads around in his jock,
    with a towel over his shoulder, unself-consciously scratching
    one huge and tightly muscled buttock.
    JESS (O.S.)
    You wanna light a fuckin' fire over
    there, Pulaski?
    Pulaski spins, throws a near three-inch bird.
    PULASKI
    Light this!
    He bellows in laughter.
    HERMAN
    Awright, awright, let's stop the
    grabasstic action. Scrub those sacks
    and clean those cracks, marines. First
    assembly is in ten!
    Stokes, Michael and Bueller watch Billie leave the shower,
    hands over her breasts and modesty.
    STOKES
    Hey, LT. Who's the shy chick with the
    rack?
    MICHAEL
    The young woman is an aide to the
    Colonel. She has knowledge of the enemy.
    STOKES
    Hey, that works.
    Bueller nods, lets the water run off the soap over his body.
    As it does, we notice a peculiar numeric TATOO across the
    back of his left hand. Bueller covers it, turns away.
    STOKES
    (grinning, up close)
    Hey, you shy, too? I don't bite.
    BUELLER
    You promised you'll only talk like that
    when we're alone.
    STOKES
    Shee-it.
    INT. MESS HALL
    Wilks and Billie sit at one table picking at their
    reconstituted eggs. Over the b.g. some Kenny Rogers MUSIC
    heard.
    WILKS
    You okay, kid?
    BILLIE
    Yeah. Just a little stiff.
    In front of them, on the other table, the merry assemble of
    troops gather in off-duty fatigues, sniffing through their
    food made from Jess, behind the counter.
    HERMAN
    Good stuff?
    JESS
    Hell yeah, de best, Top.
    (to Stokes)
    You wanna cut my ears some slack, man?
    Turn dat noise off.
    STOKES
    This is classical white music, boy. The
    man is immortal.
    JESS
    Yeah? All I hear is dem complainin' how
    their hos ran off with their trucks and
    bread and dey cryin' over their beers and
    shit. It'll stay white.
    Jess drops a slop of his special GRUEL into Pulaski's tray.
    PULASKI
    This had better not taste like soypro.
    JESS
    What you complainin' about, Pulaski? You
    eat anything and everything dey give
    you.
    PULASKI
    Anything but soypro.
    He moves around into the mess kitchen, starts sniffing around
    the steel cabinets underneath.
    STOKES
    I've seen you slippin' some of that gin
    in there. What do you think, Sammie?
    BROOKS
    Can't keep a brother from his bottle.
    JESS
    Hey, where's de sympathy, Corp? It's a
    substance abuse problem. I can't help
    it, but trust me, you'll like it.
    PULASKI
    Be like eatin' horse cocks. Nuttin'
    will give it a kick like some of my
    Grade A Loo-wee-see-ana chili peppers.
    He brings up a white nondescript carton, rips open the lid.
    STOKES
    Hot damn, you packing some heat there!
    Jess swings up the ladle defensively.
    JESS
    Fool, you are putting none of dat shit
    in my stew. Dig it?
    Lara walks in with her tray and an electronic clipboard under
    her arm. She grabs her food, joins the squad at the table.
    JESUS
    Hey, man. Did that mission really fuck
    up the Colonel's mind? I mean he's got
    more drops than most of us put together.
    LARA
    (shrugging)
    I don't know. From what I can see, it
    looks like a terrorist takeover on some
    illegal weapons facility. I don't have
    details yet but you guys got the hint
    from the base.
    JESUS
    Yeah I saw that payload. You don't go
    packing heavy nukes for any bug-hunt.
    Nods from the group.
    BUTCH
    Terrorists? Guess all that guerilla
    training finally paying off.
    BROOKS
    (nudging Bueller)
    Hey, you got an idea what's going on?
    Bueller brings up his fork halfway, stops. Eyes on him.
    BUELLER
    Not a clue. It sounded more like a
    biological expedition. You know, like
    some safari?
    They all look at each other. Their curiosities are
    definitely peaked.
    HERMAN
    Wait for the briefing, people.
    Wilks finishes up his breakfast.
    WILKS
    I'm going to go hit the weights. You
    going to be okay here?
    BILLIE
    Yes. I'm fine.
    WILKS
    Okay. I'll be back soon.
    He gets up and leaves, just as Colbert enters the mess hall.
    The two acknowledge each other in silence.
    COLBERT
    I need someone on walk-through duty. Do
    I have a volunteer?
    It sounds more like a demand than a question.
    HERMAN
    Your turn, B Squad.
    BUTCH
    Man, I got better things to do than walk
    up and down this ship.
    COLBERT
    Let's go, people. Don't make me pull
    one of you out by the ear.
    BUTCH
    Easely, you get walk-through.
    Private EASELY - fresh cut and fresh face, begrudgingly picks
    up his tray.
    EASELY
    Thanks a lot, Sarge.
    Colbert hands off his clipboard to Easely. He grabs a tray
    from a stacked shelf. He sees Billie sitting alone.
    TIGHT ON BILLIE lost in her own world when --
    COLBERT (O.S.)
    This seat taken?
    Billie nods her head no. Colbert settles down into his food.
    COLBERT
    How do you like the cornbread?
    Billie gives him a tiny smile, then regards him. Colbert
    feels her eyes, and looks up at her face.
    COLBERT
    Well, you're not the little girl
    anymore, are you?
    BILLIE
    You look great.
    Colbert chuckles, if a little weak.
    COLBERT
    Do I?
    BILLIE
    You look...better than Wilks.
    COLBERT
    Well, he's taken quite a beating.
    He trails off, and goes back to his food.
    BILLIE
    So, is there a plan?
    COLBERT
    So far. We'll get to the planet. See
    what's happening. If we need to drop,
    we'll drop, sweep if necessary, then
    leave...and nuke the planet.
    BILLIE
    Sounds easy.
    COLBERT
    Don't worry, Billie. This platoon is
    good.
    BILLIE
    Better than Fox Platoon?
    A beat. Colbert gives her his smile.
    COLBERT
    Yeah. We'll at least know the enemy.
    They're much easier to kill without the
    element of surprise on their side. Hey,
    it might not even come to that.
    Billie nods. She hopes so.
    


End file.
